


The Shifting Mirrors

by orsumfenix



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming of Age, Gen, Growing Up, Sibling Bonding, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-03-20 06:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18987355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orsumfenix/pseuds/orsumfenix
Summary: “If you never time travelled, you never got caught up with the Handler, what would have happened?”“I guess I would have grown up to be an emotionally stunted man-child like everybody else around here.”When Five goes to time travel, he’s stopped by an older version of himself who already made that mistake.





	1. when vine-buds wake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that line in the show was _made_ so ppl could write fanfiction about it  
> the time travel in this fic does not line up w the way time travel works in the show at all! p sure this couldn't happen in canon! in fact none of this fic makes sense when you think abt it for two secs but!! it's fun to write :)

Five moves to step into the future and instead steps into an old man.

It sort of ruins the moment, but whatever. Dad won’t know that. For a half a second he’s terrified it _is_ Dad, somehow already outside and ready to stop him, but Five looks up and – no. It’s just some guy with a nice hat.

“Kid,” the guy says. “You really don’t want to do this. Trust me.”

Ha. What.

Instead of dealing with this properly, Five very pointedly steps around the guy and goes to travel forward. He’s not calculated exactly how far he’s going to go, but fuck it, he can always just work it out and travel back from there –

“Don’t,” the guy says softly. It’s enough to make Five stumble, giving the guy time to grab his arm. Trying to shake loose does _nothing_. Fuck.

Five glares up.

“Let go of me.”

“No.”

“Are you a pervert?”

“Of course not.”

“That’s exactly what a pervert would say.”

“God, you’re annoying. I should let you go and you’ll get exactly what’s coming to you.”

“Please do.”

“I can’t.” For an old man the guy’s got a strong grip. There’s always the option of just teleporting out, but then everyone would see and crowd around and ask if he’s that ‘space-jumpy kid’ like last time he jumped in public. The guy is clearly preparing some sort of Villain Monologue on why he feels the need to harass children on the street, but the problem is that Five doesn’t have _time_ for this. Dad or Luther or someone might come out and stop him, and he needs to prove that he can time travel right now.

“You’re ruining my moment,” he tells the guy. “So I recommend you let go of my arm before I start yelling for help and you get arrested.”

“Bad idea,” the guy says, clearly not expecting Five to yank his arm away at that exact second and step through the space-time continuum.

It’s sunny. Five blinks and grins.

He did it.

He takes a moment to look around, taking in the different people and cars and the empty pavement behind him. Good. He’s left that weird guy in the past, and now he can keep stepping forwards and prove to himself to Dad.

“Not ready, my _ass_ ,” Five says, turning and stepping into the old man for a second time.

“I told you not to do that,” the guy says like he’s got any reason to be annoyed. Five stares dumbly. Has he been waiting here since Five disappeared? No. That was probably _years_ ago. Five only just stepped through and the guy wasn’t there then. “You’re really stubborn, you know that? It’s going to fuck you over.”

“Great. I don’t care.”

“Well, you should.”

“You’re a freak,” Five tells the guy frankly, once again striding to the side and smiling. “Good luck following me this time.”

“Don’t do that – shit.”

It’s winter. Maybe it’s the next winter or maybe it’s ten years in the future, he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. The smile threatens to break his face. This is awesome. This is the most awesome thing he’s ever seen.

“I know you think this is amazing, but you really need to listen to me. If you go forward again you’re going to get screwed.”

Five’s smile drops.

That _fucking guy_ is standing behind him, because why wouldn’t he be. He was probably hired by Dad, considering the bastard’s omnipotent and probably knew what Five was planning. What, is he supposed to scare him with his hat and suit and briefcase? Oh no, a businessman, how terrifying!

“Who are you?” Five demands hotly, hands curling into fists. “Why are you stalking me?”

“I’m not stalking you, I’m saving you. And as for who I am…well, that’s where this gets interesting.”

“You look like the most boring person on the planet.”

“Appearances can be deceiving. You look like you think you know what you’re doing, but you don’t. The next jump forward is going to take you to a time where nothing but you exists, and you won’t be able to get back.”

“I can _time travel_. It doesn’t matter how far I go.”

“You can go to the future, yes. But have you tried going back to the past?”

The word hovers on his lips. _No._

“Who are you?” he says again. The guy smiles.

“I thought that would be obvious. I’m you.”

\--

The Other Five takes him to a café.

“I’d prefer donuts, but it’s probably best if we stay away from Griddy’s for now,” he says conversationally, like he hasn’t just dropped the biggest bomb on the planet then announced they should talk it out over a snack. “I’ll order. What are you getting?”

Five stares. The Other Five stares back.

“…Rocky Road.”

“Go get a seat.”

The Other Five seems to be a lot of things, the primary one being kind-of-rude. Not that Five’s the most polite child in the world, but he likes to think he can tone it down in public.

There’s nothing else to do, so he gets them a seat.

Now that he’s looking for them, the similarities are obvious. The eyes. The jaw. The know-it-all attitude. He’s not a hundred percent convinced, but he’s not _not_ convinced. There is the fact that this guy followed him through time. This guy knew what he was planning. This guy showed up at exactly the right place and time to stop him going through with it.

This guy is getting handed a chocolate frappe milkshake by the barista, so clearly he knows some very important things about Five.

“You better be grateful,” the Other Five says as he plonks it on the table, putting down his own mug with – is that fucking _black coffee?_ – much gentler. “That drink costs way more than it should.”

“It’s worth it,” Five bites, pulling it closer and frowning. “How do I know you’ve not poisoned this?”

“Why would I poison my past self?”

“You might not be who you say you are.”

“You saw me carry that thing right from the till to here. When did I supposedly pour this poison in?”

It’s a very good point. Instead of conceding it Five starts in on his drink, trying not to show his nerves at the way the Other Five’s looking at him like he’s an idiot. He’s not an idiot. It seems pretty hypocritical of this guy to act like he is.

“I took the liberty of checking a newspaper,” the Other Five says. “It’s the 3rd January, 2013. The others are twenty-four. And look at you. Stuck at thirteen.”

It shouldn’t sting considering it’s probably not even meant to be an insult and is, if anything, just a fact. But for some reason it cuts, like the Other Five is blaming him for it. Considering how much of an asshole he’s turned out to be, that’s probably exactly what’s happening.

“There’s nothing wrong with being thirteen,” Five snaps defensively, fully aware that it’s hard to be intimidating when you’re gripping a chocolate frappe milkshake with all your might. “And besides, there’s probably a me out there right now that’s twenty-four. All I have to do is travel back and become him.”

“You can’t.”

“Says who?”

The Other Five lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. “Says the you that tried and failed.”

“About that.” There’s a sense of unease sitting in his chest, amplified by the fact that his older self hasn’t said anything about what happens in the future other than the ominous ‘nothing but you will exist’ statement. “What happens? Why have you come to find me?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We can time travel. Time is relative.”

The Other Five barks out a laugh that quickly fades. Christ he grows up grumpy. He’s really not looking forward to becoming this guy.

“Okay, listen up. When I was you, no older self appeared to save my ass from jumping forwards that extra time. So I went and – it was shit. There’s no easy way to say this so I’m just going to say it and you’re going to have to deal with it. Ready?” He doesn’t even wait for a response before barrelling on. “The apocalypse happens in 2019 and I jumped in right after it. There was – there was nothing left. Just me and dead bodies.” The Other Five stares at the table, coffee untouched. “There was nothing.”

“Oh.”

The Other Five looks up sharply, face twisted into a sneer.

“Is that all you have to say? ‘Oh?’ No apologies, no ‘thank you for saving me’s? Just that?”

“What do you expect me to say?” Five snaps back, slamming his milkshake down so hard some gets on the table. “I didn’t ask for your help!”

“Without my help, you’d be me right now!” People are starting to stare. This is a very weird argument to be having in public. The Other Five seems to realise it too, taking a deep breath and forcing the worst smile on god’s earth. Five’s smiles better not look like that. “Speaking of, now that I’ve stopped you making the worst decision of your life, you’re not _going_ to become me.”

“That makes a paradox.”

“Kid, I’ve had forty-five years to figure this out. Trust me. It’s fine.”

“Sure.”

The Other Five looks amused. “Y’know, I really don’t like you.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

There’s that bark-laugh again. “I don’t like you, but I don’t want you to live the life I’ve had to live, so here’s some advice: go home. Stay away from time travel. Explore spatial jumps as much as you want, you’ll be fine, but leave time travel here. Dad wasn’t right about a lot of things, but if you’re only ever going to listen to him once it needs to be about this.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Five says. It sounds pathetic. He sounds like a kid. The Other Five shrugs tiredly.

“I’ve wanted nothing else for forty-five years. You don’t know what you have until it’s gone.”

“I have a shitty dad who doesn’t respect me.”

“Wake the fuck up, asshole. He’s never _going_ to respect you. You could travel in time and stop the Hindenburg disaster and he’d still treat you like you’re not worth the time of day.” Five’s hand is freezing against his drink. He doesn’t move it. “Don’t go back for him. Go back for your siblings. Go back for _you_. Do what I never got to do. Live your life. Enjoy it. Become something great.”

“Well,” Five says numbly, forcing the words out like they’re made of cotton. “I’m not becoming you, that’s for sure.”

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.” Five doesn’t have an idea how happy the Other Five is because the Other Five seems incapable of looking cheerful for more than two seconds, but his first step towards not becoming this guy is to bite his tongue and keep it to himself. “I reckon we should get this thing moving sooner rather than later. I’ve worked out the equation you need to get back, no need to thank me.”

“Don’t need your help. I can just jump back.”

“Try it.”

He tries.

It doesn’t work.

He tries again.

The Other Five sees his dawning look of horror and smiles grimly.

“Yeah, I figured it out the hard way too, except I was in a burning world and I didn’t have the equation ready-made by my future self. Here.” A scruffy book is produced from god knows where. Five watches with a strange, panicked fascination as the Other Five tears a page out and slides it across. “That’s got everything you need to show up soon after you left. Even Delores thinks it’s perfect, so you should be fine.”

“Delores?” Five asks, only getting a coffee sip in response. “I don’t understand, and if you’re me then you know how much I hate to admit that. If I go back now, what happens to you?”

The café seems to go silent around them, the clinking of plates fading. The Other Five shrugs with a faked nonchalance.

“You’re Plan A. Either you work and I fade out of existence, or I don’t in which case I move on to Plan B. One last job, then I travel to 2019 and figure things out from there. I’ll have to ditch the briefcase, though. They’ll notice I used it to come here soon, and things’ll get ugly when they do.”

“They?”

No reply. Again. This guy’s either making stuff up to troll him or his life goes really wrong somewhere down the line.

Five looks down at the page, taking in the equation. The way home.

“Okay,” he says softly, flattening out the edge like it matters. He should probably hide in the bathroom or something, but fuck it. It feels right that he do it here and now. “Here I go.”

\--

He hammers on the door for about ten minutes before Grace opens it.

“Five!” She beams at him, waving him inside. “We were just having dinner. Your father didn’t want any interruptions, but you were knocking so loud I just had to let you in!”

“Thanks Mom,” he says dimly. He hasn’t called her Mom in years. Then he teleports right next to Dad.

Literally everyone but the bastard himself jumps. Across the table Vanya is beaming. Five smiles awkwardly back.

“Five,” Allison says, anxiously looking him up and down. “Where have you been, it’s been a week -”

Dad raises a hand to silence her before looking up at Five and frowning. “Number Five.”

“Hey Pops.”

He’s feeling particularly insolent considering what he’s just gone through, and Luther’s face says it all. Dad just looks at him for several long moments.

“Was there something you needed, Number Five?”

“I’m back. Just thought you should know.”

“Back?” Apparently Dad’s Facial Expression of the Day is vague surprise. “I hadn’t realised you were gone.”

And he goes back to his food. Just like that. Like Five doesn’t matter at all. Like he never has.

Five stares at him for a good few minutes, trying and failing to think of something, _anything_ that he could say that would change Dad’s mind, convince him he’s worthy, he travelled in time after he said that he couldn’t which means he’s good, he’s clever, he’s worth caring about –

 _Wake the fuck up. He’s never_ going _to respect you. You could travel in time and stop the Hindenburg disaster and he’d still treat you like you’re not worth the time of day._

Like four of his siblings are trying to catch his eye. The cutlery sounds loud and banging against the quiet record playing, like everything’s a knife. His vision is blurring in a way he hasn’t let it for a very long time.

“Oh,” he manages to say. It’s a small word, but somehow it says it all.

Five wants to say more, but his throat’s horrifically clogged. So he just – walks away. Ignores all the pitying stares of his siblings, the awful realisation that no one’s going to follow him and no one ever would.

He’s alone in his room. It’s not quite the apocalypse, but it feels close.

\--

A soft knocking at the door wakes him up hours later. He’s tempted to ignore it and just keep laying curled up under the duvet, but then Vanya’s small voice says, “Five?”

“What do you want?”

“Can I come in?”

No.

Five sits up, crosses his legs and takes a deep breath. That other him was bitter and kind of an asshole. He needs to be better and it needs to start now.

“Yes.”

Vanya comes in like he’s going to take off running at any moment. She might not be wrong.

“Hey,” Five croaks. Shit. He clears his throat. “You okay?”

Vanya can’t teleport, but for a second he’s fooled. She’s sitting next to him before he can blink, clearly going for a hug.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” she breathes out, and oh god she’s crying too. Fuck, shit, this is all his fault – “All of us did, Diego would never admit it but he was really scared something awful had happened -”

“Hey, hey.” He pushes her away gently, trying for a smile. “It’s okay. I’m back now and I’m not going anywhere.”

I did it, he wants to say. I went to the future. Dad was wrong about me.

He’s too tired to boast, even if it’s one of his defining characteristics. Instead Five shuts his eyes and tries not to feel too embarrassed that he’s crying a lot more than Vanya right now.

“I noticed you were gone,” Vanya says. And that’s all he needs. That’s enough.

It’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unfortunately i will be busy busy busy for the next couple months, but i figured i'd get this first chappie out and into the world, esp considering this chap can be read as a oneshot!  
> yes this would appear to create a paradox but a. i don't rlly care and b. that should come up in a much later chap!  
> like i said this fic doesn't rlly make sense so sorry about that! :'D  
> thanks for reading! any comments would be lovely :)


	2. collecting pictures from a flood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey here's another 9,000 words  
> i haven't read this over so there may be errors, sorry in advance!

It’s not like Vanya can stay in his room all night. She gives him an extra-tight hug before she leaves, which is nice, and then she slips out the door and it’s like she was never even there.

Five takes some time to study his room. It’s the same room that it was this morning, but somehow everything feels different. Smaller. Like he’s only just realising how big the outside world is and how much of it he needs to explore.

Five grabs one of his notebooks and starts to plan.

\--

Everyone is staring at breakfast. Well. Not Dad. But the others – Diego who he doesn’t really get on with and Klaus whose pupils are huge and Vanya who’s his favourite – all of them suddenly seem to find him super-interesting. Maybe it’s the fact that for them he’s been gone for a week. Maybe it’s the fact that last time they ate with him he slammed his knife into the table, had an argument with Dad and stormed out of the Academy.

Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s barely slept and looks awful. That might have something to do with it.

Five doesn’t touch his breakfast. He ignores Ben clearly trying to catch his attention across the table. This isn’t the time for that. This is the time for something else.

“So, I have a question.”

Dad doesn’t respond. Asshole.

Five grits his teeth. None of his siblings are eating now, all just watching him like he’s about to set off a nuclear bomb. He isn’t quite angry enough for that, but he _will_ smash a plate if Dad doesn’t look up soon.

“Hey. Dad.”

One of those terrible records drones in the background. Dad’s face tightens, but he doesn’t speak.

Five’s fingers curl. You’d think after a week that Dad might be somewhat interested in where he went and if he even managed to time travel, seeing as he’s alive and whole. But no. Nothing. No acknowledgement. He probably thinks Five just hid on the streets or something, like that’s not Klaus’ style if anyone’s.

“Cut it out,” Diego hisses when he sees Five’s mouth open. Five shuts it, glares at him, and defiantly re-opens it.

“Dad.”

“Number Five,” Dad responds, angrily putting down his fork and managing to be threatening even from the opposite end of the table. “I thought you had learned from your temper tantrum.”

It wasn’t a fucking temper tantrum.

“I have a question.”

“It can wait. Meals are a time for silence.”

He runs through it in his head and can’t find an answer to make Dad listen. So he eats his food. What else is there to do?

Ben keeps looking at him. It’s the first time in months he’s not kept his eyes firmly on a book during a meal. Five would feel honoured, except that he really hates the concern in Ben’s eyes. He’s not a pity case. It’s fine. He wants Dad’s attention, isn’t getting it right now, but whatever. He can get it after.

He resolutely refuses to meet Ben’s eyes.

When Dad dismisses them he announces that today is Allison’s personal training day. Five waits for a good thirty seconds before realising, wow, Dad _actually isn’t_ going to bring it up.

“Dinner’s over,” Five says loudly. Everyone halts where they were walking away. “Can you answer my question now?”

He’ll give Dad this: he’s very good at conveying with just a sigh that he thinks Five is being obnoxious and he’s only humouring him to get him to shut up.

“What is it, Number Five?”

“I want to go to university.”

“That is a statement, not a question.”

“Okay, _can_ I go to university?”

Dad frowns. “You’re thirteen.”

“Not now. When I’m older.”

“Then I don’t see why you are asking me now.”

Five stares at the table. Works his jaw.

“If I want to go to university,” he starts slowly, tracing the empty plates with his eyes. Grace has started clearing them away, like a good little maid. Like nothing’s wrong. “I have to have the qualifications to get in, and to get those I need to go through official channels.”

“Are you asking me to attend school?”

“No.” Five would be terrible in school and everyone knows it. All the tutors at the Academy already hate him, which is their own fault for not being able to keep up with the amount of questions he asks. “I’m saying we should learn national syllabi so we can take those exams and get qualifications.”

Dad narrows his eyes. “’We’?”

Wrong decision. All his siblings are glaring at him for dragging them into it, which is a fair point considering he’s never talked to any of them about this. Dad’s staring like Five’s the ringleader of some kind of Sibling Plan. Grace is humming obliviously.

Five folds his arms behind his back and meets Dad’s eyes. Okay. Showtime.

“I’m thinking of our futures. _All_ of our futures.”

“Five,” Luther hisses. “Stop. Dad knows best.”

“Indeed, Number One,” Dad murmurs. “Your collective future is being the saviours of mankind. You do not need university. Dismissed.”

“That’s it?” Five bites out. “Just ‘no’?”

“We will discuss this at a later date, Number Five,” Dad barks, which is at least a step-up from last time’s ‘we will not discuss this any further’.

“When?”

“Five, just stop,” Allison says. “It’s not worth it.”

“This is between me and Number Five,” Dad snaps, and Allison’s face twitches with hurt. “Very well. We will discuss this when you are sixteen.”

Five’s fully aware that Dad is hoping he’ll have forgotten by time he’s sixteen, or failing that he’ll just receive the same answer. But it’s the first time Dad’s not outright refused him completely. Maybe the old man knows now that Five can always just - leave. He can walk out that door and never come back.

He raises his chin.

“Okay,” he agrees. “When I’m sixteen.”

Sixteen is a very long way away.

In the grand scheme of things, two and a bit years isn’t a lot. Not when he’s got his whole life ahead of him, a life where he can leave the Academy and make something of himself. A life that might include university. A life that might include freedom.

The others all think he’s insane. Five knows this because as soon as Dad’s out of earshot Diego turns on him and hisses, “You’re completely insane!”

“Maybe so,” Five replies calmly. At least he hopes it’s calm. His heart is kind of hammering in his ribs, so.

“That was amazing,” Vanya says. She bites her lip. “I hope he wasn’t too mad.”

“Oh, he was _pissed!_ ” Klaus looks way too gleeful about this. Jesus, how high is he? “I can’t believe he didn’t actually say no to you, what the hell!”

Five winces. “It was kind of a no. He’ll say no when I ask in a few years.”

“Then I guess you better give him a good reason not to,” Ben says, and look at that. He’s smiling. “It’d be nice if you did. I want to go to university, too.”

It’s a moment that could probably be filed under ‘sibling bonding’ if that was the sort of thing Five did. Instead he gives The Awkwardest Smile In Existence.

“I’m sorry, are we just going to ignore the giant elephant in the room?” Luther demands. “Five, you were gone for a _week_ and none of us know where.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters. We were worried sick about you!”

“Sure you were.” He didn’t mean it as an insult, but Luther rears back, looking upset. God, he’s really bad at this. “Listen, I – it really doesn’t matter, okay? All that matters is that I’m back now, and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

\--

Hours become days become weeks. Dad seems intent on ignoring both the university thing and the disappearing for a week thing, so Five ignores it too. Instead he concentrates on his jumps, tries to push himself to go farther and faster. If he’s not allowed to time travel he can at least master this.

Not telling anyone that he managed to time travel is the hardest thing he’s ever done. He’s self-aware, he knows his pride is probably is biggest problem and it shouldn’t feel so embarrassing to keep this a secret, but part of him wants everyone to know what he’s capable of. But that’d mean explaining the full story, how the Other Five told him he was fucking up and that he should never time travel again, and that’s a can of worms he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to face.

What he can face is Vanya’s violin recital.

He doesn’t really care about music, and cares about seeing it performed even less. But when Vanya tentatively asks if he wants to come to the small recital she has, he can’t bring himself to say no.

“If Dad won’t let you, it’s fine,” she assures. It’s clearly an out for him to say he can’t go without having to admit that he doesn’t really want to. “I asked him if everyone wanted to come but he ignored me.”

“Because he’s a dick.”

“Yeah.”

She’s tied her hair up, which is rare enough that it’s genuinely weird to see her ears. Five taps his pen against his worksheet. It’s not that he doesn’t like learning, but it’s annoying that the science tutor always gives him way more and harder work to do than everyone else.

“I’ll come to your show,” he promises, because it’s not like anyone else will. “When is it?”

Vanya’s smile shouldn’t look so relieved. “This Friday at 3. I get one free ticket for a family member so I’ll get it for you this evening.”

“Great. Is it near the Academy?”

“It’s in the Icarus Theatre. Not on the main stage, that’s for the grown-ups, but they’ve got some little rooms at the back and that’s where all the kids are performing. I’ll probably be one of the worst ones there.”

“Don’t say that.” Five stares at his sheet. All the questions seem so easy. Does that mean he’s the cleverest one in the family by even more than he thought? “I’m sure you’ll be great.”

Vanya laughs like she doesn’t really believe it. He’s trying to make an effort to include her more, to make her realise that she’s fine just the way she is.

Whenever Five messed up as a kid he used to have thoughts like ‘it could be worse, I could be like Vanya’. If he’s honest, he still has them. They’re not comfortable thoughts to have.

“Our birthday’s coming up,” Vanya says, messing with her ponytail. Another thing he’s not used to seeing her do. “Do you know what you want?”

He has no idea if the others swap gifts, but Five, Vanya and Ben get each other a little something every year. The difference this year is that Five isn’t technically turning fourteen until a week after everyone else, which he can’t explain to them but still feels like something he should honour.

He’s not crazy. That day happened. He needs to acknowledge that it happened, even if it’s in a method as lame as celebrating his birthday a week late.

“Just some donuts from Griddy’s or something.” He leans back in his chair, fondly remembering the time Klaus did that and fell. “I don’t care.”

“Donuts it is.” Eating donuts a week later is gonna be a little weird and they’re gonna be a little stale. Or a lot stale. Whatever, he can what he wants.

“What about you?”

“You don’t need to get me anything.”

Five gives her a _look_. “I’m getting you something.”

“Um, socks?”

“Socks it is.”

She slides the ticket under his door that evening, and here’s to hoping that if Dad still watches them on those creepy cameras he thinks it’s just a normal note. Five keeps it in a notebook until Friday, and when he gets back from a mission on Thursday night exhausted and shaky from too many jumps and almost vomits into his bin he takes the ticket out and stares at it. It’s a good reminder of why he puts up with all this Umbrella stuff: for people like Vanya. Ordinary people who don’t have the powers he has to help them.

He’s also glad he has his powers because it makes sneaking out a cakewalk. Imagine being one of his other siblings, unable to teleport and not having the Fire Escape Bedroom? Oof.

The look on Vanya’s face when she sees him in the small crowd of parents isn’t one he’s used to seeing. She seems genuinely surprised that he came, which is offensive. Like this isn’t preferable to staying in his room doing the ‘individual warm-ups’ of jumping jacks and press-ups he’s pretty sure only Luther actually does.

Vanya is the only performer he claps for.

Unfortunately, sneaking out means you also have to sneak back in. Five doesn’t bother to look in his room through the window before he teleports in, which is a rookie mistake, because Dad is standing by the door.

“Number Five.”

Five tries not to look too badly startled. Judging by Dad’s expression, he fails.

“Why are you in my room?”

“Security footage showed that you disappeared when you were supposed to be completing your individual training. Where did you go?”

Shit, shit, shit. If he says where he was Dad’ll punish Vanya, too, he might even stop her playing the violin –

“I _was_ doing my training,” Five lies, schooling his features to look offended that Dad would even consider that he wasn’t. “I jumped into the alleyway from here and practised jumping to different levels of the fire escape.”

Dad hums. “You have not previously been successful in jumping a large vertical distance.”

“Well, I can now.”

“Then I suppose you won’t mind demonstrating.”

This is making him feel sick, which, in honesty, is probably a good thing. He’s hurled after too many jumps a lot. This lie needs to be plausible.

“I’ve been jumping for hours. I won’t be able to now, I’m too tired.”

If he really had been jumping that much, it’d be the truth.

Dad frowns.

“How very disappointing, Number Five. I expect to see a demonstration at your next personal training session.” Which is in two days. Shit. “And your assignment today was to physically work out, not test your powers. I suggest you spend the evening in your room thinking about what you’ve done.”

Which means no dinner. Great. He’s being punished for what Dad thinks is extra practise. There really is no right thing to do, is there?

Five’s stomach rumbles as Dad leaves, not that it does anything to change his mind. All it manages to be is embarrassing.

\--

Vanya’s awkward around him the next day. She clearly thinks him being punished is her fault, even though Five made his own decision because he’s thirteen and not three. Unfortunately he only has time to give her what better be a comforting smile and otherwise avoid everyone all day. He has a bigger fish to fry.

How in the hell is he supposed to make this vertical jump by tomorrow?

Part of him is hoping Dad will forget, but a more reasonable part assures that Dad has never forgotten anything they’ve done wrong, ever. So. He’s going to have to make this jump or Dad will know that he snuck out, and it wouldn’t be difficult to figure out where, and then Five and Vanya will both be in deep water.

He’s never made a jump like that before. Fuck.

Five tries experimenting by trying to jump from the top of the fire escape to the floor. He appears halfway down with a banging headache and weak knees.

He went and told Dad he could get from his room to the floor outside. So somehow, he’s going to have to do that. Even assuming he can practise himself into it, he’ll be too exhausted to do it tomorrow.

New tactic: delay.

He finds Luther on a jog outside and does his best to fall into step with him.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Luther greets, shooting him a weird look. It’s fair enough. They don’t really – talk, and here Five is jogging in his uniform instead of reading like every other day this week. “Are you okay?”

“Of course. Are you?”

“Uh, yeah. Just jogging. Obviously.”

“I can see that.” Talking and jogging at the same time isn’t as easy as Luther is making it look. Five’s not un-athletic, Dad made sure of that, but he’s been skipping out on more and more exercises lately and it looks like that’s finally come back to bite him. “Let’s stop running.”

Luther looks very uncomfortable about stopping.

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean, what’s going on?”

“Last time you talked to me was to tell me you thought I was stupid.”

Five opens his mouth to say that he doesn’t _think_ Luther’s stupid, he _knows_ that he is, before realising there’s no way his plan’s going to work if he starts off insulting Luther.

“Well,” he says, “I’m sorry.” He isn’t. “But actually there is something I want to talk to you about.” Here goes. The Big Lie. “Dad said I should start training with you more because he’s really impressed with you.”

Luther lights up like the sun. It’s enough to instantly make Five feel bad.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“This isn’t a trick, is it?”

Five frowns. “Why would I trick you?”

“Diego would.”

“I’m not Diego.”

“Yeah, I know.” God Luther looks so happy. God Five feels so bad. He tells himself that he shouldn’t. It’s a white lie. White lies are whatever. They make people feel better, so what’s the problem? “So, you want to start training together?”

“Um, not today.” He shrugs. “I don’t know, just thought I’d tell you. Oh, and Dad said as well that he wishes you’d volunteer for individual training more.”

“Right.” Luther nods, clearly about to go and do just that when they get back to the Academy. “When did he tell you all this?”

“At my last training session.”

Luther believes him because he wants to believe him. It’s as simple as that.

Five hesitates. “You know, I’m supposed to be doing my individual training tomorrow. I bet Dad would like it if you volunteered to go instead.”

“Don’t you need to train?”

“I’ve kind of been stalling lately.” Even saying that as a lie is embarrassing. It’s very possible that Five has a pride problem. “And Dad always wants us to be the best, right? The worst that can happen is that he can say no.”

It’s such an obvious goad for Five to get out of training. But Luther’s so desperate for Dad’s approval, so eager to succeed, that as soon as he can he asks Dad if he can take Five’s place tomorrow.

Dad gives Five the stink-eye like he suspects him, but apparently the thought of Five and Luther actually interacting and making a plan together is so ludicrous that Dad agrees. Five is officially off the hook, at least until his next training session.

“Five,” Vanya calls when he walks by her open room. She comes to the door, lowering her violin nervously. “I just – wanted to say sorry. That you got in trouble because of me.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“Really,” he insists, antsy to get back to his room and work on doing that jump. If Dad decides to switch his and Luther’s individual training, he’s got five days. If not, he’s probably got about eight, but best to play it safe. “Dad doesn’t even know I went to see you. And I liked your performance. You were the only good one there.”

“That’s not true,” Vanya admonishes, but she smiles. “Thanks, Five. It means a lot.”

“I know.”

He does.

\--

Five practises the jump over and over and over. He spends so much time awake in the night that he almost falls asleep face first onto his breakfast. But his jumps start getting further down.

He finally does it at three in the fucking morning, and yeah, he pukes and yeah, his nose bleeds a shit ton, but he’s done the jump and once he’s shown Dad it’ll be proof that he’s better than Dad thinks.

“Very good,” Dad says when Five does it in front of him. It feels like enough, finally, he’s worthy, and then Dad says, “Next time see if you can reach the end of the alley.”

\--

The Hargreeves family birthday is the same as it always is. Mom makes a cake for the seven of them to share, Allison is the only one that can sing the birthday song in tune, and Dad doesn’t care about any of it.

Except this year is different for Five. Because this year it isn’t actually his birthday.

He can’t admit to anyone that he’s technically a week younger than his siblings now, so he eats his slice of cake and gives Vanya socks and Ben gloves and makes himself sick by scoffing the donuts Vanya got him and starts reading the book from Ben that night.

A week later he sneaks out long enough to buy himself a cupcake from the local supermarket. Red velvet. He eats it in the cellar after jamming a couple of marshmallows on top and nearly chokes on the damn thing when Ben walks in.

“Are you okay?” Ben asks in concern. Five waves a hand, face red. Jesus Christ, the end was upon him then. “What are you doing down here?”

“I could ask you the same.”

Ben shrugs. “I was trying to find you to ask you if you finished that book yet.”

Five peels back part of the cake wrapper and takes a big bite. “I finished it five days ago.”

“And?”

“I liked it.” He studies the cupcake instead of looking at Ben. It seems easier, even though this isn’t a hard conversation at all and he really shouldn’t be struggling. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Ben sits by him, staring at the cake. It’s getting a lot of attention. If it was anything like one of the Hargreeves kids, it’d be overjoyed by now. “Why are you sitting here all alone eating a cupcake?”

“I like cake.” Five tilts his head significantly. “And I like being alone.”

It’s a pretty mean dig, but Ben squares his shoulders and doesn’t leave.

“Mind if I sit with you?”

Five puts on a big sigh. “Fine.”

 _It’s my birthday_ , he thinks, and instantly realises how sad it is that he was planning on celebrating by sitting alone in the cellar eating a cupcake bastardised with marshmallows on the top. Ben’s doing a very good job of trying not to look too judgey, but his eyes keep straying.

“Do you want a bite?” Five offers. This, ladies and gents, is his best attempt at a genuine apology for obviously not wanting Ben there. At least it’s better than nothing.

Ben eyes the marshmallows for a second. “No thanks.”

Five shrugs and shoves almost all of it in his mouth. It’s a mistake. Too much cupcake and not enough mouth.

By the time he’s finished eating/choking it down, Ben is straight up _laughing_.

“You’re so weird,” he says. He’s not wrong. “Hey, how about you come and chill in my room for a while?”

Five shuts his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, and wishes his voice didn’t sound so raw.

\--

Luther apparently hasn’t forgotten Five floating the idea of training together, because Five starts getting an offer a day. He blows it off every time and tries to ignore the way Luther deflating gets more and more obvious.

It’s just – he doesn’t _need_ to train with Luther. Or at all, really. He’s above stuff like that. He can teleport, for god’s sake, why does he need to be able to run too –?

“Wanna train today?” Luther asks as their physics tutor wraps up the lesson. It’s the only lesson where they sit together because they get physics and maths in a way the others just _don’t_. Five scratches out an equation on his sheet.

“Maybe tomorrow, Luther.”

“Okay.”

The problem with saying ‘maybe tomorrow’ to Luther means he’s going to get asked again tomorrow. And sure enough…

“Do you want to go for a run?” Luther suggests when they’re walking away from the dinner table.

“Maybe we could spar?” Luther suggests when Five’s _trying_ to read in _peace_ , thank you very much.

“We could work on our powers together?” Luther suggests after they’ve all already done a team training session, oh god.

Five gets so sick of it that he just snaps “No!” at about the twentieth time. Luther stares at him for a good long seconds before he just says “Oh” and walks off. Like. That’s it.

Yikes.

Five has a theory about Luther. The name Grace wanted to give him before he turned it down was German, like the name Luther is, and began with an L, like the name Luther does. It’s pretty circumstantial, and probably doesn’t mean anything, but as a kid he could’ve sworn Pogo said something about “all six mothers gave up the babies completely willingly” when asked by a small Diego, and at the time he thought it was another way of leaving Vanya out but now part of him isn’t so sure.

It’s not like knowing for certain if he and Luther shared a mother would make any difference, or really mean anything at all considering they were all born weird and raised even weirder, but still. He thinks about it sometimes.

Luther doesn’t ask him if he wants to train again. It feels kind of shit.

The next mission they go on is rough. Dad chews them out for half an hour because Klaus got distracted on lookout and Diego almost let one of the casino robbers get away and Ben wasn’t willing enough to murder people.

Five gets that he was ‘too cocky and sure of himself’ which is why one of the casino robbers actually _did_ get away, and now police are looking for him. Allison gets told she should’ve been more responsible.

“And you, Number One,” Dad barks. “I had more faith in your leadership skills. Apparently I was wrong to expect competency.”

Luther looks crestfallen. Five shifts uncomfortably.

“Get out of my sight,” Dad says, and Five takes this time to be so, so jealous of Vanya, who gets to play her stupid violin while they get to feel like shit for not saving lives efficiently enough. “I am very disappointed in you all.”

The others leave as soon as Dad does, Klaus and Ben bumping shoulders in comfort and Diego practically storming off. Allison shoots a worried look at Luther, but Five meets her gaze and mouths ‘I’ll handle it’. Her trusting nod shouldn’t make him so happy.

“Hey,” he says once the others have gone and Luther still hasn’t moved. “You wanna go train?”

Luther looks at him with big eyes that are – shit, sparkling with tears. Klaus and Diego and the like have built up an immunity by this point, but Luther doesn’t get yelled at by Dad often, and he takes it hard every time.

“Do you mean it?” Luther asks, like he actually thinks Five’s shitty enough to fake him out when he’s clearly this upset.

“Yes. Duh.”

“I’d, um.” Luther blinks rapidly to try and contain the tears. “I’d like that.”

“Okay.” Five jerks his head. “Go get changed then come outside. It’s nicer out there.”

\--

If they thought that mission was rough, the next one was specially designed to give them all a breakdown.

That casino robber? The one that got away? Yeah, that guy is back with a vengeance and he’s holding up a jewellery store.

By the time they get there three people have already been shot. Ideally, Five would be able to grab the injured and teleport them out, but it’s rough enough on someone’s body without a bullet wound. They’d never survive.

Allison tries to talk the guy down, but. He. Oh. He must’ve put earplugs in or something, and if someone can’t hear Allison she can’t Rumour them into doing shit. He’s got accomplices and they all must be decked out the same, and half of them have hostages as human shields so Diego can’t throw knives without being worried that they could shift and he could hit the wrong person.

Five tries to apply pressure to one of the victim’s wounds at first, desperately pushing down on the stomach of this poor store worker who looks so fucking scared. Allison pulls him away in the confusion and says she’ll take over, her powers are useless against these guys but Five’s aren’t.

She’s right. Five can grab the guns from the robber’s hands and teleport outside to drop them on the pavement, but he’s got to move fast to get them from everyone before they start shooting. It’s a nightmare. It’s exhausting. People are bleeding out and there’s nothing he can do to help.

He’s in the middle of dropping some of the last guns outside where Klaus is still on lookout when a shot goes off inside. Then screams. Awful, terrible screams.

Klaus grabs Five’s arm before he can teleport back.

“Don’t go in there!” Klaus pleads. People are still screaming and they can’t see inside. God knows what’s happening. “It sounds really dangerous, you can’t just appear in the middle if they’re shooting -”

“They’re not!” It’s true. It’s just horrible tearing sounds and he has an awful feeling he knows exactly what it is. “Let me go, Klaus.”

“Just wait a little bit.” Klaus looks really wild around the eyes. “Just until we know it’s safe.”

The tearing sound stops. Five yanks his arm out, glares, and jumps back in.

Oh.

The leader, the casino-robber guy, Five hadn’t got his gun yet. His must’ve been the shot that fired right into a fourth hostage who’s now completely and utterly still.

He’s just in time to see the tentacles climb back into Ben’s stomach. All the robbers are dead. In pieces. Ben ripped them apart and all his siblings saw. It’s – it’s _limb from fucking limb_ , oh god, there’s blood and pieces of people everywhere –

At least. At least Ben didn’t kill any of the hostages. It’s a cold comfort.

Five knew what happened to Ben’s victims, of course he did but seeing it is something else. He’s going to be sick. This is –

It’s –

Well.

Klaus throws open the door and freezes when he sees the room. The hostages are still whimpering. So are some of the Umbrella Academy.

Five checks the pulse of the fourth victim. There isn’t one.

He applies pressure to the wound of one that’s still alive, and waits for the ambulance.

\--

“Dad keeps a bunch of liquor in a cabinet in his office,” Klaus blurts out at home hours later. Vanya’s at a lesson and the others have all gone to their rooms, traumatised as shit, but as the two Least Traumatised™ Five and Klaus are sitting in the cellar as Klaus paints his own nails with shaking hands.

“So?”

“Welllll.” Klaus isn’t his favourite sibling, but he’s certainly not his least favourite. Five tries not to smile as he gives an endearing jerky shrug. “Whenever I’ve gotten drunk before I’ve usually just asked someone to get it for me if I pay them _or_ I’ve had to steal it myself, but this changes everything. He was yelling at me and he got some out and I realised, holy shit, there’s a huge stash of booze _in the house_ just _waiting_ for us to take it.”

“Your point?”

“Uh,” Klaus says. “You can teleport.”

Oh.

Okay.

Five quirks a brow. “Are you asking me to teleport in there and steal a bunch of alcohol for you so you can get wasted?”

“No, no of course not.” Klaus pauses. He’s gotten the varnish all over his fingers as well as his nails, but Five’s seen him do this before. Klaus is too clumsy to just do it right so he does that and then picks it off the skin until it looks perfect. “Actually, yes. It just sounds bad when you put it that way.”

“That’s because it is bad.” He really should say no. Getting drunk’s supposed to be a terrible idea if you’re in a bad mood, and neither of them are doing too well at the moment.

Five’s never actually been drunk before. He doesn’t like the thought of being out of control.

But fuck it. He wasn’t in control at the jewellery store. If he’s honest, he’s not been in control for a very, very long time.

“Okay,” Five agrees numbly. “But only if we share it.”

Klaus stares for a solid twenty seconds before breaking out into a grin.

“I _knew_ you were secretly the best sibling!”

Getting into the office is fine. Thank the lucky stars that Dad’s off on a talk show justifying what happened to the press. They’re probably supposed to be watching the interview, but if Five does he might actually be sick, so.

Unfortunately, the cabinet Klaus claimed had the liquor is locked.

“Oh,” Klaus says once Five has jumped back out and told him. “Right. That makes sense.”

“You don’t say.”

“Can you, like, teleport me in there? I could probably lockpick it open.”

Five stares. “If you can lockpick why am I teleporting into the office instead of you just opening the door?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” Klaus admits, running a hand through his hair. “And I suck at lockpicking. It’s only worked once. Well, once and a half.”

“Why do you even know how to lockpick?” Five hisses. “You’re supposed to be a superhero, not a thief.”

“Dad kept locking my stuff away!” ‘Stuff’ probably means weed, which is one of the few things Five agrees with Dad on. He doesn’t like how often Klaus has been doing it. He doesn’t like that it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop. “Can you teleport me in or not?”

Um. Not.

Five bares his teeth in a grin. “You really, really don’t want me to.”

Klaus widens his eyes. “Jesus, that was terrifying.”

“Sure.” They both stare at the locked office door. Five chews on his lip. This is a clear sign from a higher power that they should just forget the whole thing, and this might count as ‘enabling’ the nasty new habits Klaus is getting into, but. He’s still shaking. He’s freaked out. And Klaus always seems so happy when he’s drunk. “Look, maybe I can force the cabinet open somehow.”

“Wouldn’t Dad notice when he came home?”

Five thinks about the mission and Allison crying and how Dad’s out justifying it to the press instead of being here.

“You know what?” he decides. “I don’t care.”

Klaus’ mouth drops open. “You are getting cooler by the second!”

“I know.”

When Five jumps back in it’s with a fire poker. That poor cabinet door.

\--

“Okay, just hold still, I’ve almost finished this hand – fuck!”

The nail varnish Klaus was using to paint Five’s nails overturns, spilling all over the table. It’s so fucking funny.

“Oh my god!” Five wheezes, trying in vain to wipe away the varnish now all over his hand and only succeeding in messing it up more. “Dad’s gonna _kill_ you!”

“Then I can commune with myself.”

It really shouldn’t be that funny. It really is.

They’ve had a lot to drink. Maybe too much. Probably too much for a couple of fourteen-year-olds, but they _are_ very stressed fourteen-year-olds, so maybe it’s not too much after all. Maybe they should actually drink more.

Five pours them both another glass.

“Dad’s gonna be so pissed in the morning,” he says cheerfully, “but this is so much fun.”

Klaus nods. “It’s feels great, right? We should do this wayyy more often.”

“After every mission.”

“Especially ones like today.” Klaus’ laughter is kind of unhinged. It sounds how Five feels. “Poor Ben. I’d feel so shit if I was him. I was gonna go comfort him, but I don’t think he wants me to. Bet I’d fuck it up if I tried.”

“You can’t be any worse at comfor – at _comforting_ than me.”

“Huh,” Klaus says. “You’re kind of right.”

Five frowns distractedly. “Hey. You’re supposed to disagree.” His fingers are so numb. The Umbrella Academy is supposed to stay alert at all times, but Klaus has been getting drunk and high for fucking ages and he’s not dead yet. “I’ll buy Ben a book tomorrow.”

“A specific book, or, or just a book in general?”

“’A book in general?’” Five repeats with a grin. He’s definitely a more pleasant person drunk, even if it’s getting to the point where he barely makes sense. “I dunno, man, just like – a book. That’s my best attempt at comfort.”

Klaus never gets around to replying. They chat shit for, god, it must be hours, getting less and less coherent and going to the loo more and more until Pogo catches them and sends them to bed with a promise to tell Dad in the morning.

It’s possible Five might beg that stupid snitching monkey not to do so. It can’t be a very convincing argument, considering how backtracky and circling and slurred it is, but they’ve had a hard enough day. Surely they can at least have this.

The next day Dad says nothing. Even if Pogo didn’t tell, he must’ve seen the cabinet by now. The smashed door. The missing drinks.

Somehow the lack of reaction is even worse than a punishment.

\--

Life goes on, because it always does.

He sees Vanya perform a few more times. Every so often he trains with Luther. He spends time with Ben and tries to forget what he saw in that jewellery store.

Five and Diego start having arguments. They’re small at first, starting with “stop scratching your chair with your knife while I’m trying to eat” and “quit mumbling in lessons, it’s so distracting” and escalating to “you’re so obsessed with being better than Luther, it’s _pathetic_ ” and “y-y-you think you’re better than the r-r-rest of us, but you’re not!”

It gets to the point that Five goes to talk to Ben, sees Diego’s sitting with him, and turns and walks away.

“It’s just normal sibling stuff,” Five says when Allison asks why it keeps happening. “We sit next to each other every meal.”

“I don’t care if it’s normal sibling stuff,” Allison snaps. “Diego’s fighting with you more than Luther now, and that’s when you _know_ it’s getting bad.”

In all honesty, he’s not sure why it has gotten so bad. It’s just. Neither of them are passive people and neither like backing down from arguments. Diego likes to accuse Five of thinking he’s smarter than the rest of them and honestly? He’s not wrong.

“It’s none of your business,” Five bites out. “I don’t want your help.”

“Tough. I heard a rumour that you stopped arguing with Diego.”

Five glares in outrage.

“What the hell, Allison? You can’t Rumour me, I’m not a criminal!”

Allison’s looks uncomfortable for a second before she clears it from her face.

“It doesn’t matter. This has to stop and if you’re not going to try, I’ll do it for you.”

He blinks away. He doesn’t have to listen to this.

The next time Diego tries to start an argument Five stares and physically can’t say all the awful things that he wants to. If anything, it gets Diego even more riled up, like he thinks this is Five’s new tactic for being spiteful.

Allison walks in after Diego’s started stammering pretty heavily, and considering it’s been getting better lately the fact that he’s struggling isn’t a good sign.

“He isn’t going to argue back,” she announces, looking proud of herself in a way that makes Five feel sick. “I told him he couldn’t argue with you anymore.”

“W-w-what?” Diego demands. “Why?”

“It has to stop, it’s annoying and exhausting and it’s so uncomfortable being around when you’re arguing.”

Five glares at her. “Allison,” he says, hating how his voice shakes. “Please undo the Rumour.”

“What, so you two can argue again?”

“If you undo it, I’ll make sure that we won’t.” He drums his fingers on the table. Diego watches with furrowed brows. “I just – I can’t physically say what I want to him, and it’s weird.” It’s uncomfortable. “You can’t just take my free will.”

Allison looks with big eyes like she hasn’t been confronted this way before. Maybe she hasn’t. Maybe she’s never bothered to ask anyone how it feels.

“You promise not to argue for at least a month?” Five nods. Allison sighs. “Okay. I heard a rumour that you could argue with Diego again.”

He doesn’t need to try it to know it’s gone. His mouth feels less tight, his head more relieved.

“I’m not saying thank you because you shouldn’t have done it in the first place.” He stands, still jittery and not liking how Diego and Allison are both looking at him.

Five deals with it the way he deals with most things: by teleporting away.

\--

As soon as the Umbrella Academy got famous and started getting requested for commercials, Dad had them marching to filming studios. It wasn’t really that big of a deal at first: a few group photos here, a bit of product placements there. It was only when individual requests started to come in that it got annoying as shit.

Allison is probably the most popular. Fashion lines love her. If her picture in a particular dress or jacket is circulated? That thing sells fast.

Luther, Diego, Klaus and Ben all get used for products like sneakers and aftershave. The best commercial is probably the one where the four of them pretend to stop animals escaping from a zoo, and Klaus pretends to smell an animal before realising it’s Diego, who starts using whatever aftershave the advert’s promoting and next time gets congratulated on smelling great.

Five makes fun of it for two weeks straight by pretending to waft in front of his face whenever Diego’s near. In the end he stops because Diego looks genuinely upset when he stammers that “i-i-i-t-t-t isn’t funny anymore, g-g-guys.” Five assigns the full blame to Dad, because most things are Dad’s fault. It certainly isn’t Five’s fault that that advert is so hilarious.

Five himself gets requested by a lot of educational shows. He’s the ‘smart one’, after all. Presenters like that he’s young and clever, explaining how his powers work and how portals work and encouraging kids to pursue careers in science.

The worst part isn’t being on the show itself. The worst part is being forced to smile and tell pre-scripted jokes that sound like a toddler wrote them.

Soon after their fifteenth birthday hits he and Allison get shipped out to a studio where Allison is filmed modelling all sorts of designer clothes and he appears on a kids news show to talk about science. It’s not the worst thing he’s had to do, but it’s just tiring. He wants to go home.

“I can’t believe they made me wear that dress,” Allison mutters on the way home. “It didn’t suit me at all.”

“And I should care why?”

“Because I know you hate being on those shows.”

She’s dead-on, as usual. Five huffs and looks out the window.

“I’m sorry,” Allison says after a while. He blinks.

“What?”

“About Rumouring you that time, into not fighting with Diego.” She plays with the bottom of her skirt, folding and unfolding. “It wasn’t right.”

“What brought this on?”

Allison shrugs jerkily. “I don’t know. They made me wear clothes I didn’t want to wear and I didn’t like it. And I – I made you do something you didn’t want to do and you didn’t like that. I know it’s not the same, what I did was worse.” This is getting deep. 911, Emotions Are Happening, where’s Grace and her hugs when you need her – “My powers can be kind of scary, sometimes.”

“I think your powers are cool.” Okay, that was lame as shit. Nice going, Five.

Allison smiles, though. It’s watery.

When they get back his other sister is the one that needs comforting. Vanya’s sad that all these fashion lines want to model Allison when she thinks no one will ever look at Number Seven twice.

“I know it’s dumb,” she confesses when they’re alone in her room. “Allison is so beautiful, and I sound so bitter, but I just. I want someone to notice me.”

“I notice you all the time,” Five points out. Vanya shrugs.

“I know. But Allison’s _famous_. All these brands love her, and I’m stuck here being plain, boring, _ordinary_ Vanya.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being ordinary Vanya. I don’t find you boring.” Vanya laughs like he’s told a joke. Five frowns. “Would it help if I told you Allison doesn’t even like doing the modelling?”

“A bit.”

“She doesn’t.”

“Oh.”

Vanya still looks disheartened. Five stands.

“Wait here.”

“Where are you going?”

“You’ll see.”

 He gets back half an hour later with a bunch of clothes that are technically stolen from that department store nearby. Vanya blinks.

“Have you gone insane?”

Five rolls his eyes. “These are clothes. You’re going to try them on. We’re going to have our very own fashion show and it’s going to star you.”

Vanya picks at one of the shirts, tag very much intact.

“Five, did you steal these?”

“Yes.” At her pointed look he pushes a dress towards her. “I’ll take them back after. It’s whatever, it’s fine. I think this dress suits you.”

“That looks way too long.”

“You can tie it up with a bobble.”

Vanya stares at him for a good few moments before bursting into giggles.

“You’re so weird,” she gasps out, taking the dress and holding it against herself. It is indeed too long. She sounded so much like Ben just then. “Okay, okay, let’s do it. Let’s have a fashion show.”

It’s dumb and goofy and probably the stupidest thing Five’s ever done. He puts on a pair of sunglasses he took and pretends to be a reviewer who gives her nothing but praise in a terrible impression of a French accent. Vanya giggles and grins the whole time and wow, he should lower himself to being dumb more often because this is a shit-ton of fun.

“Thank you,” Vanya says when he tells her that ‘zat coat is trés bien’. “I mean, not just for compliment – for all of this.”

He should be able to just say ‘you’re welcome’. ‘You’re welcome that I put in all this effort just so you’d feel like you’re worth something’. ‘You’re welcome that I’m reminding you that you’re my sister and you matter’. He shouldn’t be uncomfortable with being thanked the way he’s uncomfortable with so many other emotional things.

“Well,” he says slowly. “I – I mean, um. You’re.” He clears his throat. Christ. “You’re welcome.”

Small steps.

\--

Five goes to sleep in his bed and wakes up in a cellar.

He’s so groggy it takes a while for the whole picture to sink in. It’s dark, but he can see stairs leading up to a presumably locked door. His hands are handcuffed behind his back. He’s alone. And judging by the way he’s feeling, he’s probably been drugged.

Great. He’s been kidnapped.

Five winces, rolling his shoulders back and making an embarrassing effort to sit up. His head is pounding and his mouth feels like it’s been drained. There’s no telling how long he’s been here, but he’d place his bets on it being a while.

Was he snatched in the night? By who? How did anyone get in the Academy without Dad seeing on one of his creepy screens?

This is so humiliating.

Getting out of the handcuffs is an effort and a half and he has to break his thumb to do it. He sits with the pain for what must be ten minutes, desperately blinking back tears and telling himself that he’s better than this. He can’t sit in the dark crying when he should be escaping.

He heads up the stairs, pressing an ear to the door at the top and hearing voices on the other side. He can’t make out any words, but it sounds like a few guys – three, maybe four. If he’s fast enough he can take them all out when they’ve barely registered he’s there.

When he teleports to the other side he realises his mistake. There’s seven guys there, all big and burly and clearly expecting him. He’s in some kind of kitchen, and fuck he’s still feeling the aftereffects of that drug and he should’ve waited until it wore off –

The first guy swings a punch but Five dodges, grabbing the nearest thing he can find as a weapon. This turns out to be a pan. Okay. He can work with a pan.

The second guy gets a pan to the head.

It’s a small space and it’s really overcrowded, so teleporting is a hassle but it’s his only advantage. Things start getting sticky when he’s knocked out three guys but four are still coming at him and his hand hurts so much and what did they even want him for?

Five takes out one guy but gets knocked down by another. He’s pinned to the floor, and the guy squeezes his arm enough that the pan slips out of his hand.

Fuck.

He brings his elbow up sharply, grinning at the guy’s hiss of pain and rolling onto his feet. Okay. Three guys to go and he’s so, _so_ tired. He can’t win on physical strength here. He’s going to have to keep teleporting.

Five disappears and reappears all over the room, waiting for one of them to charge at him before zapping out and kicking another behind the knee or in the groin. His head is pounding. He has a killer nosebleed. When this is done he’s going to be really ill.

But he manages it. The last guy goes down and he breathes heavily, aware that he’s veering towards panic attack territory and not knowing how to stop it.

Five stumbles across the room and rams at the door not leading to the cellar. It is, predictably, locked. Some of the guys are groaning and stirring and he needs to get out of here now.

The blood from his nose is all over his pyjamas. Great. That’s never coming out. Goodbye, favourite pyjamas.

Five slams his head against the door, listening intently for any sounds. He can’t hear anything, but it is a thick door, and he doesn’t have time to pick it open. He’ll have to teleport through.

As soon as he does he almost falls over, body too exhausted to carry him, but he leans back against the door and surveys the room. It’s empty, thank god, but there’s another steel door at the end and there’s no way he can teleport through that without incurring some serious damage.

Searching the room top to bottom does not reveal a key, but it does reveal some things that could be fashioned into one. He tried learning a bit of lockpicking after hearing Klaus talking about it, and god it takes a long time but eventually he twists the damn handle and it turns.

On the other side is Dad.

Dad clicks the top of his stopwatch. “One hour, forty-five minutes.”

Five stares. Behind Dad are a bunch of screens showing the rooms he just went through. Pogo’s monitoring them with a guilty look on his face. Grace is making tea.

“What,” Five starts slowly, “the _hell_ is going on?”

“A test. I thought that would be more obvious, Number Five.” Dad looks down at him with disappointment. “You broke your thumb. The best option would’ve been to use the materials in the cellar to create a tool to pick the lock with. Marks will have to be deducted for that.”

Five’s mouth drops open. He wants to say something like _marks? Test? What?,_ but apparently he’s too shocked for words.

“Grace will tend to your injury,” Dad says. No, Dad _dismisses_. “Then you can return to the Academy.”

“What the fuck,” Five finally gets out, cutting off Dad before he can admonish him. “No, seriously, are you telling me that you drugged me, stole me from my bed, made me think I’d been _kidnapped_ so I _broke my thumb_ and fought seven guys way bigger than me, then had to spend ages doing, doing a _breakout room_ , just so you could give me marks on a test?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god.” His nose is still bleeding. He feels numb, emotionally and physically. He’s going to pass out very soon. “Oh my god, you’re the worst.”

“Number Five, you will not speak to me like this. You’re delirious.”

Five might actually be delirious, but he’s not stupid.

“You’re the _worst_ ,” he repeats, spits it out like it’s poison. “I can’t believe you would do this to me. Have you done this to the others too?”

Dad’s silence says it all.

Five is so goddamn jealous of Vanya.

“Number Five,” Pogo cuts in, like any of this is any of his business, like he’s not an accomplice. “Your father was simply trying to -”

“Don’t,” Five snarls. It shouldn’t take all his energy to hold up a hand but hey, there we go. “Don’t even – I’m going home. Now.”

“Honey, you look like you’re about to faint,” Grace points out. Five shuts his eyes.

“I am about to faint.”

“Oh, dear!”

His one overwhelming thought as his legs give out is that he really, desperately needs to leave the Academy.


	3. the shape of the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mate i hammered like 3/4 of this chapter out today that's what #inspiration does to you  
> see the bottom for warnings

“I can’t believe it,” Five mutters for the twentieth time. Luther glares at him.

“You’ve said that.”

“I’m saying it again,” he snarls, hands curling into fists, and. Ow. Broken thumb. Right.

Luther notices, because why wouldn’t he. “Is your hand okay?”

“Does it _look_ okay to you?”

“What happened to it?”

“Those fucking handcuffs happened.”

“Oh,” Luther says, “I just shattered my ones.”

Five bares his teeth. “All well and good if you’ve got super strength, isn’t it? But what about the rest of us, Luther?”

“Why didn’t you just teleport out of them?”

“It doesn’t work like that. Stuff like this is hard for us! Didn’t that occur to you, or were you too busy beating up guys half as strong as you?”

He’s well aware that he’s starting to go over the line here, words getting sharper and meaner and Luther’s starting to look really upset, but Five’s angry and hurting and he isn’t in control right now, oh god he’s not in control –

“I didn’t – it wasn’t easy, Five! I spent hours knocking those doors down!”

“Oh, only hours?”

“Yeah, and Dad was _proud_ of me. He said I did well!”

“Well, in that case, congrats on being great at escaping a staged kidnapping by your own father. God, would you just listen to yourself, do you honestly think that this was okay?”

“Why are you being so mean?” Luther demands, looking genuinely distressed. Five dreads to think of what a mirror would look like right now. Probably tired and snarling and covered in blood. Feral. But he’s not feral. He’s _not_.

“I’m just telling the truth. I guess it’s just hard for you to hear because you actually enjoy being treated like shit, even though it’s less shit than the rest of us because poor little Luther is daddy’s favourite -”

As far as he can tell, Dad administered the test in number order, but by the time Five woke up after fainting Ben’s had already been and Five couldn’t stop it. The others are all getting chewed out for what they did wrong, and Five wants to teleport in and tell Dad to shut up, _Dad’s_ the one that’s wrong for doing this to them, but he can’t use his powers right now. He’s too drained.

Apparently he and Luther did well enough not to need chewing out, so here they are. Arguing on the stairs.

“So that’s what it is,” Luther says, leaning back satisfied. “You’re jealous because you think Dad likes me the best.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Five snaps, because surely Luther is wrong. That isn’t why Five is angry at all. He’s angry because Luther doesn’t understand that Dad treats them terribly, he never understands. He thinks that this is okay. “We shouldn’t be sitting here tired and hurt and scared. Dad shouldn’t have done this to us and if you think for a _second_ that he had any right then you’re just as bad as he is.”

Luther rears back as if struck, cheeks darkening.

“Don’t talk about Dad like that. He just wants what’s best for us.” Luther stands up when Five scoffs. “Like it or not, it’s true. He’s strict, yeah, and sometimes – sometimes it’s hard to understand the way that he works, and you hate not understanding but you have to trust him. This is all for the best.”

Being sat down while Luther’s stood up feels like submitting, so Five slowly raises to his feet and looks Luther in the eye. This is his brother. His twin. And somehow he’s the one that Five understands the least.

“Luther,” he says quietly, nastily. “You’re brainwashed.”

Five’s whole body flinches when Luther punches the banister, like it’s trying to teleport away but can’t. The part Luther punched wobbles for a moment before toppling, landing downstairs with a loud crash.

They stare at each other for a few moments. Luther’s shoulders rise and fall with how hard he’s breathing.

“One day,” Luther says, “you’re going to realise that you’re no smarter or better than any of us. You think I’m an idiot, but you can be stupid too. Remember that time you ran away?”

Oh, how can he forget?

Five’s argued with pretty much all of his siblings before, and sometimes those fights have gotten nasty. But this is getting awful. This is getting so he’ll never get on with Luther again and he can’t stop.

“If you knew what I saw when I left, you’d realise that I _am_ better than you.”

“Then tell me!” Suddenly Luther is shouting. “Tell me what you saw, Five! If it made you so much _better_ , let’s see if I can handle it!”

“You couldn’t!” He’s not even sure if he can handle it himself. The future. The Other. The warning. “You’re too wrapped up in this stupid Academy and how you’re going to spend your whole life here, you’ll _never_ understand the things that I do because that would mean you’d have to open your mind, and you can’t do that!”

Luther’s face twists.

“You’ve been saving that, haven’t you?” he accuses. “That’s something you’ve thought about before but never had the guts to say.”

“Yes,” Five bites out. “Because it’s the truth.”

“Boys!” Pogo shouts from down the corridor, frowning and walking towards them painfully slow. “Are you the source of the racket?”

His eyes look between the two of them before settling on the broken banister.

“It was Luther,” Five says. While true, it’s unkind.

“It was Five’s fault,” Luther declares. Ah, there goes Five’s brief second of feeling bad for snitching. “He’s being a brat.”

“At least I’m not an idiot,” Five snaps. Pogo raises an arm.

“Your father is downstairs educating your siblings, and you think it’s appropriate to be shouting at each other and destroying parts of this house? You are behaving like children. Worse, like criminals.”

“Sorry, Pogo,” Luther says, sounding cowed, but Five is different. Five fumes.

“You always take Dad’s side, even when he’s not here,” he accuses. Luther and Pogo’s faces form twin expressions of shock. “Screw you. Both of you. You’re just as bad as him.”

Five can’t teleport but he can storm off, and even though he doesn’t want them to chase him he still feels disappointed when they don’t even call out.

He’s so tired that he leans against Vanya’s door when he knocks. From inside comes rustling.

“It’s locked,” she calls. Five tries the handle and it swings right open.

“Oh,” Vanya says. “Dad usually locks it when you guys are on missions so I didn’t actually check.” Her eyes find his face. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

“I need to sit down.”

“What happened?”

Five flops down on the bed. Explains. He feels numb with it, with this one stupid event that suddenly feels like everything he can think about.

“That’s awful,” Vanya whispers when he’s done. He closes his eyes. He just wants to sleep. “Dad did that to you? I – I wouldn’t’ve known, he just said you guys were on a mission -”

Five laughs bitterly. “It wasn’t a mission, it was a test. He gave us _marks_.” He wants to stop talking about this. This thing Dad’s done, it needs to stop taking up his every fucking thought because now Dad owns him even more. “Can I sleep here?”

“Sure,” Vanya says. Five closes his eyes.

\--

Diego seems to like him a lot better now that Five isn’t speaking to Luther. Classic sibling rivalry and alliance stuff. It’s dumb.

It is nice to actually grin at the person you sit next to at every meal, though, so that’s nice. Much better than when they were arguing all the time.

The downside is that it’s been a trade. Getting on better with Diego has come at the cost of being so mad at Luther he can barely even look at him, and it seems to go both ways. Sometimes when they’re alone Luther will open his mouth like he wants to say something, but before closing it firmly and looking away. Alright, then. Two can play that game. No apologies from anyone, and no forgiveness either.

Have any of the others even noticed? They’re terrible at communication at the best of times, and it’s not like this is as obvious as his yelling matches with Diego used to be.

Well. No one’s brought it up with him, so he’s not going to, either. They don’t even talk about the ‘test’, or at least not to him. It makes sense. Five’s not exactly…approachable. Until -

“I was so scared,” Ben admits in private one night, when Five’s jumped one room over so they can look at the stars together. “I really thought I’d been kidnapped, and I thought that I was all alone.”

You _were_ all alone. It’d be the wrong thing to say, and it takes so, so much effort not to say it.

The right thing to say would be to admit that he was scared, too, but he can’t.

“He won’t do it again,” Five says. “We’d know the trick this time, so it wouldn’t work.”

Ben snorts, eyes tracing a constellation. Five doesn’t know which one. He resolves to find out tomorrow.

“Now if I ever get kidnapped for real I’ll just start yelling for Dad to cut it out and they’d either think it was so weird they’d let me go, or they’d kill me.” The fact that one of them might end up dead eventually isn’t something they dare talk about a lot, but it’s in quiet, calm moments like this that it surfaces. “Or at least they’d try, before they got ripped apart.”

Oof. Dark. And true.

“If you got kidnapped,” Five says, staring at the sky so he doesn’t have to look Ben in the eyes. “I’d come and rescue you.”

“Yeah.” Ben’s voice is quiet, but his smile in the window reflection is wide. “You would.”

\--

He consults his notebook eventually, with its plans and ideas. He wrote some of them in code, just in case Dad got Pogo or Grace to go snooping through his stuff, but with his luck they’d figure out what it means instantly.

The goal is getting out. The method is university. Except – that’s also a goal, because it’s not something he can just do. He’ll have to convince Dad to let him get the qualifications. He’ll have to be a model member of the Umbrella Academy.

Can’t exactly juggle that and being rebellious at the same time.

This is going to be hard.

If there’s one thing living with Dad teaches you, it’s what he’s like. Reginald is a three strikes sort of guy, so Five can only fuck up twice at most. He only gets two chances to rebel, to lash out, to make a mistake. And that’s only once he’s sixteen and Dad has – hopefully – agreed to let him study for university. Until then he can’t fuck up at all.

He’s always prided himself on being the most rebellious child. He knew from a much younger age than the others that Dad was wrong, that he was messing them up for good. He’s the only one who’s ever dared run out on him. The only one willing to ask for things.

He just has to hold on until he’s eighteen. Then Dad has no power over him.

Just two and a half years. He can hold on for that long.

\--

He pushes himself harder in training.

Not for Dad. Never for Dad. It’s just that the Umbrella Academy fights are getting _dangerous_ and the others (coughKlauscough) don’t bother to keep up with things so Five’s got to pick up their slack. He’s got to be ready to step in when they falter.

He doesn’t blame them for slacking off. It’s ridiculous that they’re even in these situations at all.

He works on his jumps in private, too. What was it his other self said? “Explore spatial jumps as much as you want, you’ll be fine, but leave time travel here.”

Yeah. That.

He’s going to be amazing at spatial jumps even if it kills him. Which it just might.

One day he jumps too far too fast and his nose starts bleeding and it won’t fucking stop. He could ask for help, but. He doesn’t really. Five doesn’t _do_ that.

He sits in his room quietly holding his pillowcase to his nose and desperately trying to hold all the blood in. He’s not supposed to leave it if it keeps bleeding, they’ve all had first aid training and he knows he’s supposed to go to Grace, but it’s not – he doesn’t need that. He doesn’t need her.

He doesn’t need anyone.

By the time the bleeding stops his pillowcase is completely soaked through. It looks like someone got murdered in here.

All the extra practice pays off when an office across the city catches fire and the Umbrella Academy are sent in to help. It’s so dumb, this is something firefighters should do, this is _their_ job, but when they get there the firefighters seem relieved. Relieved that a bunch of stupid kids are coming to save the day. For fuck’s sake.

“We think there are some people inside,” one of the firefighter’s explains. “Sixth floor. But the structure of the stairs is too weak to support anyone.” He squints his eyes, looking over each of them in turn. At this point in life Five can tell who’s a fan and who’s not, and this guy is not. This guy can’t tell them apart. “Does one of you fly?”

Klaus raises a hand. “I can levitate like two inches off the ground.”

Everyone stares. Five rolls his eyes.

“I can teleport. I’ll go up. But I’m going to need a mask or something.”

“Right,” the firefighter says. “Which one are you, again?”

He bares his teeth. “Five.”

“Ah.” Clearly it doesn’t ring any bells, but the firefighter nods. “Okay, come with me. We’ll get you some gear.”

He feels like a right idiot in the too-large coat and the oxygen mask, but pride has no place in this. He’s saving lives. He shouldn’t be bothered about looking dumb.

(The others wouldn’t be bothered about looking dumb.)

(Shut the fuck up.)

He’s half worried he’ll teleport into a corridor that immediately collapses under his weight, but luckily the floor holds. He runs down the hall with stinging eyes, kicking doors open and squinting inside.

“Hello?” he yells, well aware that his voice is muffled by the mask. “Anyone still alive in here?”

Nothing.

They’re in one of the last rooms he checks, as is life. A man and a woman. Unconscious. They might be dead. They’re probably dead. The fire hasn’t gotten inside the room yet but smoke inhalation is a thing, it doesn’t take much to kill you.

Five runs over and takes both of their still hands, closing his eyes. He can check for a pulse once they’re out.

He takes a deep breath and space _shifts_.

They’re outside. Barely. He didn’t have the energy to go further, not with two other people, so they’re a hair’s breath from the edge of the building. Five blinks and a blurry figure of Luther comes into view, pulling them away.

“Are you okay?” Luther asks. Five looks to the side.

\--

He debates trying to get a job, but there’s no way Dad would allow it. Three strikes, he reminds himself. And a job is big. It’s ongoing. Not worth the hassle.

He’d like to be a professor when he’s older. An expert in physics. A consultant. Someone people choose to go to when they don’t understand.

The Other Five seemed like he might be something along those lines. The suit and briefcase certainly made him _look_ like a professional, even if there was a wildness in his eyes. Do Five’s eyes look like that? Surely not.

The Other Five said something about being alone in the future. Does that mean he grew up without his siblings?

He sits with Ben and Vanya and tries to imagine growing up without them. He can’t.

He tries to imagine a Five-shaped hole in their lives, where there should be someone including Vanya and calling Dad out and being The Best At Powers, Amen. He tries to imagine a world where he ran out that door and never came back and they never knew why.

And him growing up without the rest of them? Oh god.

No wonder the Other Five seemed so fucked up.

\--

The Hargreeves siblings turn sixteen on one of the rainiest days Five has ever seen. It pounds so hard against the glass it would’ve woken him up, had he been asleep.

Luckily, he was already awake and planning. Dad said they’d discuss university when he turned sixteen, and that guy never forgets anything by accident so he must know that a confrontation is coming. The only problem is how to play it.

He shouldn’t be anxious. It’s just Dad. The worst he can do is say no, and then Five will have to wait until after he’s eighteen to get his entry requirements and go to uni later. Or he could try and get them on the sly, but that’d be so much work and so hard to hide.

Okay, calm down. He’ll cross that bridge if he comes to it.

Maybe he shouldn’t ask today. Maybe he should wait. If he asks straight away it’ll be obvious that he’s been dying to for years, and Dad might say no out of spite. ‘You shouldn’t have any goals but to be a hero’.

But that could go the other way, too. Maybe if he waits Dad’ll say that he obviously doesn’t want this enough.

It won’t do any good to stay up angsting all night. He forces himself to lie in bed with his eyes closed, trying to stop the plans forming and crumbling in his head. He’ll ask after breakfast, when Dad’s awake enough to be less grumpy but not so far in the day to have been too annoyed by them.

Vanya can tell that something’s wrong. Probably because the rest of them are all excited and he’s sat there, pushing a piece of toast back and forth.

Their birthday is one of the only days Dad lets them talk at the table, the others being the special occasions like Christmas and Thanksgiving. Klaus and Diego are being loud as shit, so Vanya has to lean close when she pokes his arm and asks, “Are you alright?”

Five glares at his toast.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Or,” Vanya says, “you could tell me now.”

He glances down the table at Dad. He needs to sort this out before he goes blabbing.

“Later,” he says, picking up a fork and spearing the toast. Vanya watches with a ‘you’re an idiot’ expression. “How’s violin?”

“It’s good. It’s _really_ good. I have this new tutor, Suzanne, and she’s so nice. She plays in an orchestra.”

Ben joins their conversation about halfway through breakfast, but all too soon Mom’s starting to clear the table and Dad’s going off to his office.

Five pauses, steals his resolve, and follows.

It takes him a good few minutes to knock on the door. In the end he has to force himself to do it before he chickens out.

“Come in, Number Five,” Dad calls. What the fuck.

Five walks in. Has Dad been watching him on one of his creepy cameras, or is he that predictable? Dad has to remember him asking, he wasn’t exactly discreet about it.

“Number Five,” Dad greets. “I’ve been expecting you.”

 _You sound like a cartoon villain_. It lies on his tongue. Three strikes, he reminds himself.

“I need to ask you something.”

“Go on.”

“Can I go to university?”

Dad stares at him for several long minutes. It’s so awkward.

“Why?” Dad asks eventually, adjusting his monocle. “Contrary to what you may think, I’m not blind to your aspirations. You’ve made no secret of the fact that you plan to leave as soon as you are legally able. Why not wait until then?”

Of course Dad already knows everything. Bastard must’ve been spying on him.

“Qualifications. I need them to get in, and I need to start on them soon. I don’t want to have to wait to go to university.”

Dad hums. “You understand that if you were to work on these ‘qualifications’, you would have less time to uphold your duty to the Umbrella Academy?”

“I can handle it.”

“You are difficult. You have always been the most difficult of all you children.”

He should probably be hurt by that, but instead he just feels proud.

“We aren’t children anymore.”

Dad looks at him for a long, long time. Is Dad ever actually thinking something over when he does that, or is it just supposed to be intimidating?

“…No,” Dad says at long last. At first Five thinks it’s a refusal, before Dad goes on. “No, I don’t suppose you are. Very well. I will enter you for what you need. But don’t mistake my generosity for mercy. If you fail to perform adequately in missions, or if you act out of turn, I will withdraw you.”

Five can’t stop the smile coming on to his face.

“Thanks, Dad.” Dad frowns. “Sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Consider it a birthday gift, one that can easily be rescinded.”

“Of course, sir.” It’s getting sarcastic. Let’s hope Dad can’t tell. “Have a great day, sir.”

“Get out of my office. I am extremely busy.”

Dad looks down, so he misses Five’s mock-salute.

“Yes, sir.”

He tells Vanya and Ben later, when it’s just the three of him. They both say that they’re thrilled. He asks them not to tell the others for a while. This is something he wants for himself, to hold close to his chest.

He can’t stop smiling.

\--

“I have _big_ news,” Klaus announces when their English tutor leaves the room. Luther shushes him.

Five glares at Luther before settling his eyes on Klaus.

“What is it, Klaus?”

“Dad and Pogo are going away,” Klaus starts, then pauses dramatically.

“Whe -”

“For Halloween!”

Allison raises a brow. “And?”

“ _And_ we should totally have a huge party.”

“That,” Diego says, “is an awesome idea.”

“It’s a terrible idea,” Luther cuts in. “Dad would never allow it.”

“Dad isn’t going to know.”

“I’m doing it even if you guys aren’t,” Klaus says, “but it’d be nice if we could do it as a family.” He widens his eyes, like he’s going for bambi eyes except that it’s Klaus so it’s really not cute.

“I’m in,” says Ben. Vanya nods her agreement.

“Five?”

He leans back in his chair. “Depends,” he says. “What store are we buying our costumes from?” His face breaks into a grin and Klaus whoops.

Five ends up dressing as a skeleton, complete with face paint that Allison spends an age perfecting. Allison herself goes as a witch, complete with a broom and a little hat.

Klaus insists on carving pumpkins, and is ironically the worst at it. The face he makes is so horrendous it’s barely even recognisable. Not that the one Five makes is much better, but at least it’s not the worst one going.

“Wow, Diego,” Ben says. Five peers over and ‘wow’ indeed. Diego’s pumpkin is really fucking good.

Diego clicks his mouth, twirling the knife in his hand.

“Never challenge me on anything to do with knives.”

“You ruined it,” Allison tells him. “Now you just sound like a serial killer.”

“Who says I’m not?”

“You’re too soft to be a serial killer,” Five says, grabbing another pumpkin and removing the top. Might as well see if he can do a better one.

Diego looks affronted.

“I could totally be a serial killer. You wouldn’t even _know_.”

Five hums. “Sure. ‘Cause you’re so great at being organised.” Out of the lot of them, Five’s pretty sure he himself would be the best serial killer. He starts hollowing out the pumpkin, scooping the inside into a bowl Klaus put in the middle of the table. “Nice mask, by the way.”

Diego’s dressed as the guy from Friday the 13th, hockey mask pulled back on top of his head. Kind of ironic given the conversation.

Diego grins. “It’s good, right?”

Diego’s outfit is one of Five’s favourites. He likes Vanya’s, too – Wednesday Addams – and Klaus’ zombie bride has a certain flare to it.

“You guys,” Luther says, watching as Diego grabs another pumpkin and starts in on it. Now there’s only one spare pumpkin left. “Remember we need to tidy up as soon as Halloween’s over. If Dad finds out -”

“Let him find out,” Five dismisses. “I don’t care.” Except that the others would be in trouble, too. “Trust me, it’ll be fine. Mom won’t tell him, she has no reason to. Just no one fuck up enough to need help.”

“So no lighting fires,” Ben inputs. Klaus whistles through his teeth.

“Damn,” he says, “that’s my evening plans cancelled.”

Vanya’s being pretty quiet, which is unfortunately common when it’s all of them together. Five looks over at her pumpkin. She’s done two crescents for eyes, making a pretty good impression of pupils.

“It looks great,” he tells her. She smiles.

“Thanks, Five. Yours is…”

His second pumpkin is not much better than the first. It might actually be worse. The mouth is lopsided – on purpose, he’ll insist later – and one eye looks like a diamond.

“…Interesting,” Vanya settles on. Diego smirks.

“That’s one word for it.”

Arts and crafts aren’t his thing, okay? Sue him.

The ‘party’ itself is less of a party and more of a sleepover. Klaus gets a Ouija board from god knows where and claims there’s a bunch of angry ghosts in the room, if anyone wants to call his bluff. Five and Diego do, because neither of them can back down from a challenge, and Vanya joins in because she looks scared to be left out.

Ben wants to go trick-or-treating. Luther insists it’s a bad idea, says they’ll be recognised, but Allison points out that they’re in costumes and besides, people know the Umbrella Academy as six teenagers, not seven.

Off they go.

Five gets a lot of sweets. A _lot_. He eats so much chocolate he feels sick, but Vanya is grinning and Klaus is sober and laughing and Ben keeps saying they should find a way to do this again next year, and Five thinks that this might be one of the best nights of his life.

Luther is goddamn diligent in his clean-up the next day. Five doesn’t want to help on principle, but if he’s the only one that doesn’t he’ll never hear the end of it, so he throws the pumpkins in the dumpster below his room and tries not to feel too sad when the face that Diego carved caves in.

\--

“I’m going to do Classics,” Ben says. “At university.” He pauses, like he’s waiting for Five to ask but also can’t resist blurting it out. “Dad said I can go.”

Five has a brief, bitter thought that _he_ wanted to be the one to fuck off to uni, but he knows it isn’t fair. He smiles. It’s genuine.

“Good. You deserve to.”

Ben snorts. “He said I can only go the year after you.”

“You can do what you want when you’re eighteen.”

“Yeah, but I need to sit the exams and Dad says I can’t until you’ve left.” Ben shrugs. “I don’t mind so much, I’m not as desperate to run off as you.” Five isn’t entirely sure that’s true and he doesn’t think Ben is, either. “You’re doing physics, right?”

“Of course. But I haven’t decided whether to do straight or theoretical.”

“You’ll do great in both.”

“That’s the point.” He needs to pick one thing to really excel in. It’s harder than it sounds. “I’m leaning towards theoretical, but I still might go the other way.”

“What about astrophysics? Seems like your thing.”

“Space is Luther’s thing.”

He didn’t think it was that funny, but Ben laughs.

“Have you thought about where you’re going to go yet?” Ben asks. Five fiddles with the corner of his book.

“Somewhere far away,” he says softly. Ben nods.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Me too.”

\--

Luther corners him after one of their lessons. Five could just teleport away, but that’d look like he’s scared, and he most definitely isn’t that.

“How long are you planning on doing this for?” Luther asks. Five narrows his eyes.

“Doing what?”

“Avoiding me! And being mean to me. It’s really immature.”

“Oh grow up, Luther, I think you can handle me telling you when you suck.”

Luther clenches his fists. “I shouldn’t have to. We’re part of a team, we need to communicate and we need to get on.”

“Tough.”

“Five,” Luther says quietly. “I just want us to be friends again.”

“We’re not friends,” Five snaps. It’s maybe a step too far, and Luther’s eyes say it all. “Vanya is my friend. Ben is my friend. You’re just my teammate, and not even that for much longer.”

Luther frowns. “What do you mean?”

Five smirks with pride. “Dad said I get to go to university when I turn eighteen. As soon as I can, I’m gone.”

“Why would you want to leave?”

“Because this place _sucks_. You should be wanting to leave, too. It’s not like you can spend the rest of your life here.”

Luther doesn’t answer. Five should probably shut up if he doesn’t want this to turn into a repeat incident of the last time they argued.

He still thinks Luther’s wrong, but staying in this weird non-argument all the time is starting to get exhausting. He won’t apologise, fuck apologising, but he can offer an olive branch. Luther will recognise it for what it is.

He clears his throat. “I’m going for a run this evening. You can come if you’re not too slow.”

Luther smiles, hopeful.

“Yeah?”

Five nods.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I mean, I’m faster than you, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Wanna bet?”

Halfway around the track Five teleports ahead and wins the race. Luther complains at length, but not in the way he would’ve before today.

Diego frowns when he sees them talking the next day. You win some, you lose some.

\--

“Hard at work?”

He looks up from his notebook. Mom beams at him.

“Hey, Mom.” He’s taken to calling her that again recently. It feels nicer. Feels right. “I’m just studying. My exams are still really far off but I want to make sure I know the material in advance.” It wouldn’t be unexpected for a mission close to the exams to disrupt his studies. He needs to stay on top of it.

Mom doesn’t ruffle his hair the way she does Ben, she knows he doesn’t like it, but her smile gets wider.

“I’m so proud of you! I’m sure you’ll do very well.”

“Thanks.” It’s dumb. She was made to make him feel better. He shouldn’t be so embarrassed that she always manages to. “I’m applying for MIT.”

“Where else?”

“Nowhere. I’ll get in.”

Mom hums. “It’s better to have a backup, sweetheart. You never know what might happen.”

“Right.” He’s tempted to refuse out of pride, but if MIT does fall through he doesn’t want to risk getting stuck here for any longer than he has to. Out is out. “I’ll look at some places.”

“Let me know what you choose!”

“Yeah.” He looks at his notebook. It’s brimming with work. It feels good to have a solid goal to work towards. “I’ll do that.”

\--

Five uses his Strike One at Easter. He’s midway through a chocolate egg when the mission alarm goes off, but they already had a mission yesterday and a few days before that, and they’re tired and hurting and today is supposed to be special.

He teleports into the corridor still in his pyjamas. Luther is already there and ready. So is Allison. The other three boys aren’t in sight, but he can hear them running around in preparation.

“Number Five,” Dad says. “You aren’t dressed.”

“What’s the mission?”

Dad raises a brow. “A historical item has been stolen from a museum.”

“Are you kidding me?” Everyone stares. “We’re not going.”

Luther’s mouth drops open. Allison looks like she’s left this astral plane.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s Easter,” Five snaps. “We’ve had two missions this week, they were exhausting, and this isn’t essential. We deserve a break.”

“You are out of line.”

“I know.” He forces himself to meet Dad’s gaze. “Punish me all you want. But we’re not going on that mission. Not today.”

“Five,” Luther hisses. “Stop making it worse -”

Dad holds up a hand. Luther falls silent.

“Very well, Number Five,” Dad says. “Your siblings will go on the mission without you.”

He’s pushing his luck. But this is Strike One. He’s been so good up until now, been keeping his head down and doing all the missions, and he doesn’t want them to give up their nice day for some artefact.

“The police can sort this out,” Five says. “That’s their job. It’s not ours. Just let us have today.”

Oh god oh fuck Dad’s gonna pull him out of his exams. Of course he is, that’s why he’s looking at him like that, he miscalculated he thought he’d have three strikes –

“If you insist on not attending, then you will not attend. Chores for a month. No, two months.” That’s not so bad. “The entire house.” Oh.

The others are all in the corridor now. Even Vanya. Poor girl looks like she’s going to have a heart attack.

Dad looks at his watch.

“You have delayed us long enough that the thief has likely escaped. There is no point to this mission. You will return to your rooms.” He glares at Five. “Do not let this happen again, Number Five. Justice failed today because of you.”

 _No,_ Five thinks as the others go back to their rooms and back to their chocolate. _Today justice succeeded._

\--

It’s not like he means for it to happen. He’s bitching with Allison one day about the shows they used to have to go on, and how annoying the theme tune to one of them was, and when she tells him that she doesn’t remember it he sings it for her.

It’s only a few lines long, but when he’s done Allison stares.

“Oh my god,” she says. “You can sing.”

“So what?”

“You’re _good at singing_.” She looks so excited. This spells disaster. “How did I not know this, this is important information!”

“How is me being great at singing important information?”

“We should go to a karaoke night,” she says. Oh hell no. “You’d be great. I can sing too, I bet if we entered a competition we’d win.”

“We’d win no matter what, because you’d just tell the audience you heard a rumour we were the best.”

“I mean, I could do that, but I wouldn’t have to.” She totally would do it. He’s seen her get so many free outfits. “Seriously, let’s do it.”

“There is no _fucking_ way I’m going to a karaoke contest with you.”

She pouts. “Klaus would do it.”

“So take Klaus.”

“Klaus can’t sing.”

“Tough.” A karaoke contest. Honestly, who does she think she’s talking to? “Just because I _can_ sing, doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

“But singing is so much fun!” He shoots her a glare. She just grins. “Hey, Vanya plays the violin, right? She could play something and you could sing to it! How about Twinkle Twinkle Little Star?”

“Now I know you’re shitting me.”

Allison laughs. It’s a nice sound. A lot of the time her laughs sound fake, rehearsed. This one was real. He wonders if anyone who hadn’t grown up with her would know the difference.

“Maybe not karaoke,” she relents. “It’s not very you. But I think you should do something with it. You have a talent.”

Five doesn’t do anything with it but cringe when he finds out Allison told all the others. Diego laughs at him and Luther earnestly asks if he can sing some popular song that he’s into. Vanya just smiles, small and pleased.

“Oh nothing much,” she explains when he asks her about it. “It’s just, I already knew you could sing.”

\--

He’s got one more week of doing the house chores and he’s so ready for it to be over.

Someone keeps clogging one of the toilets with excessive toilet roll, and trying to loudly ask at during lessons who did it proves ineffectual. Diego obviously loves that Five’s stuck doing this, because he keeps purposefully making a mess in the kitchen and leaves smirking right as Five arrives.

The weirdest part is definitely when he finds a stash of weed with a couple pills lodged in a chest of draws in a corridor. Jesus Christ, Klaus.

Five takes it and puts it in his own room, under the loose floorboard even Dad doesn’t know is there. Klaus never asks him about it. He’s willing to bet that Klaus forgot he even had it himself.  

\--

When Vanya comes to breakfast with a runny nose and a cough everyone stares in fear. If one person in this house catches something everyone else catches it, too, and they’re overdue for a Collective Cold.

He tries to subtly shift his chair further away. Aw, fuck, he sits right next to her at every meal, he’s totally gonna get it next.

Vanya sneezes very, very loudly. Everyone’s tense.

“Sorry,” she sniffles, smiling up at Grace when she hands her a box of tissues. “Think I might’ve caught something.”

“Please,” Diego says, “keep it away from me.”

“Children,” Dad says, and just that is enough to make them shut up.

Vanya goes through three tissues in ten minutes. Ben and Five exchange twin looks of terror across the table.

Sure enough, he wakes up the next day with a sore throat. Which is great. Fantastic. Just how he wanted to spend his week.

The only consolation is that everyone else gets it, too. Klaus wipes his nose with the back of his hand every minute and he can hear Allison’s adorable sneezes from a good few rooms away. Pogo and Mom get away with it. Oh, to be a chimp or a robot.

At least this is just a cold, and not something worse. He vividly remembers the time they all got chickenpox as kids, one by one. Nothing has ever matched the impending doom of seeing it coming for him.

At one dinner Dad sneezes. Everyone stops. An insane grin tugs at Five’s mouth.

Dad sniffles. Frowns. “What are you all staring at? Carry on.” Coughs.

Well, well, well. Look who’s not invulnerable, after all.

Every time Dad sneezes it’s a struggle not to laugh. Diego’s mouth is twisting with the effort. Even Luther’s face starts to twitch.

Dad leaves dinner as soon as he’s finished. Allison bursts into laughter.

“Oh my god,” she breathes. “He was trying so hard to act like he didn’t have it.”

“How the mighty have fallen,” Ben says wryly. Vanya giggles.

The cold lingers in Five the longest, which is just rude. Allison tells him it’s because he pushes his body too hard in training when he should just be getting rest. He tells her to mind her own business. She tells him that his business is her business because they sometimes save each other’s lives. He can’t think of anything good to say back, so he just jumps away.

Dad recovers quickly, because it’s _Dad_ , but the week where he has the cold is one of the funniest Five’s ever experienced. It wouldn’t be so bad if Dad just admitted to being ill, but the dude is so obviously acting like he’s completely fine even when his nose starts running in the middle of a briefing.

It’s almost disappointing when the Collective Cold finally goes, but Five can appreciate being able to breathe through his nose again.

\--

“I need,” Vanya says, “to talk to you.”

He’s scribbling equations in the margins of his favourite book. “Can it wait?”

“No.”

That makes him look up. Vanya is always so relenting, so sadly passive. She’s had to be, after years of trying to assert herself got her nowhere.

She doesn’t look stubborn or docile now. She just looks upset.

Oops, here comes big brother mode. Even if they’re the same age, and even then he’s technically a week younger.

“Are you okay?” he demands. “Did Diego say something shitty? Or was it Dad, I bet it was Dad.”

“When is Dad _not_ being shitty?” She sits down, mouth twisting unhappily. “It wasn’t Dad. It’s something else.”

She doesn’t speak for a while. Five shuts his notebook.

“My tutor,” Vanya says, “for violin. She says I’m good enough to go to a music school. She wants me to interview there next week. I think I can get in. I mean, I’m pretty sure.” She chews her lip. “It’d mean leaving the Academy.”

“Oh.” All this time he was the one making all the plans to get out, and here Vanya is with the opportunity long before him. “When would you go?”

“September.”

That’s only two months away. God he’s jealous.

“So you’re going?”

“If I get in.” She untucks her hair, lets it fall in front of her face. “If I audition.”

“You should audition,” he says instantly. Vanya sighs.

“It’s not that simple. I don’t want to leave you, and Ben -”

“Me and Ben are leaving anyway. All I need to do is sit my exams and then I’ll be gone.” She still looks unsure. “Of course it’s up to you. But I’ve been desperate to leave here since I was twelve years old. My advice is to go to that audition, nail it, and get the fuck out.”

\--

Vanya auditions.

She gets in.

\--

Vanya’s last day approaches faster than he’s ready for. They both buy shitty phones to keep in touch with, and he can’t get over how sad his contacts list looks with its one singular person.

They sneak into the movies with Ben the day before Vanya leaves. They’re not old enough to be watching the gory zombie film showing. Teleportation is a godsend. He swipes some 3D glasses on the way in and together they buy the biggest box of popcorn they can. It’s expensive, but if there’s one thing Dad’s good for it’s having a hell of a lot of money.

Five doesn’t really _do_ crying, but when Ben and Vanya both start tearing up he has to try very, very hard not to join them.

Pogo booked her a driver. Five watches the car fill up with her things. Boxes of clothes, books. Her violin.

Allison stands outside with them as they watch her drive away. Five wishes the others did, too.

“Are you okay?” Allison asks once the car’s gone round the corner. Ben laughs wetly. Five just nods.

Vanya’s out now. That’s good. Not too long before he is, as well.

\--

**SENT TO Vanya: How’s music academy?**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: it’s good! sorry i haven’t texted, still settling in.**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: how are things at home?**

**SENT TO Vanya: Same as ever. Klaus threw up in a plant pot when he was drunk and I’m pretty sure Dad hasn’t noticed yet.**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: i wish i could say i was surprised.**

\--

Five wakes up on the 1st October, 2007, with a smile on his face.

It’s the Umbrella Academy’s eighteenth birthday, and Dad can’t stop them doing anything.

When Five sits down at breakfast he grins at Dad and makes damn well sure that he sees. He piles extra toast onto his plate. Today is a special day, after all. Today is the beginning of the rest of his life.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Diego notices. Five’s grin gets wider.

He spends the whole day like that. Historically he’s spent his birthdays annoyed about sharing it or, more recently, knowing that he actually needs to wait another week, but today is different. This is the Big Birthday. The birthday he’s been waiting for.

A letter from MIT arrives in the afternoon, almost like fate. He takes it to his room feeling like a dream. This is going to be a perfect day.

\--

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: happy birthday!**

**SENT TO Vanya: Same to you.**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: the big one eight! it doesn’t feel real.**

**SENT TO Vanya: Did you get the parcel I sent you?**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: the CDs? yeah i love them thank you!**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: i’m so sorry i only sent you a card :(**

**SENT TO Vanya: It’s fine, my present is finally being legal to fuck off away from Dad.**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: still…**

**SENT TO Vanya: And a letter from MIT.**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: what does it say?**

**SENT TO Vanya: I’m saving it for the evening.**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: let me know!**

**SENT TO Vanya: Yeah.**

\--

MIT don’t want him.

It stings so much. He stares at the letter for a good ten minutes trying to make sense of it. They’re _rejecting_ him. Him!

It takes him a good three days of pretending nothing happened to confess to Ben, in a moment of privacy. The letter is clutched tightly in his hand. Ben reads it over slowly.

“There must have been some kind of mistake,” Five says uselessly. “There was nothing wrong with my application.”

Ben lifts a brow. “What about the bit where you’re a child soldier?”

“I didn’t put that on there,” Five snaps, like his name doesn’t make it immediately obvious just exactly who it is. “They must’ve gotten mixed up or something.”

“Eh,” Ben says. “I’m not too sure. I think they don’t want a member of the Umbrella Academy studying there. Can’t say I blame them.”

Five can’t blame them either. Not all press is good press, and the Umbrella Academy are famous for causing a few more deaths than they needed to. People still mutter about the times Ben’s tentacles have gone wild. Some people call them heroes. Some call them child soldiers.

Five presses his lips together. Stares at the floor.

“It’s okay,” Ben says. “I mean, it’s not, but…I’m sure I’ll have the same problem when I start getting replies. If I get any replies.”

It lies between them, unspoken, that no universities might want them at all.

Ben hesitates. “Did you only apply to MIT?”

Five shakes his head. Ben sighs with relief.

“I applied for Chicago as well,” Five explains. Oh fuck, they’re gonna reject him too, aren’t they? “But I can’t see them saying yes if MIT said no.”

“Keep hoping. Some unis won’t mind. Some might even want you more. Where else did you apply?” Five looks off to the side. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. “It was only those two, wasn’t it?”

“I had a good application!” Five defends, chest swimming. “I’m going to ace my exams and all our tutors know it. I didn’t see the problem.”

“The problem is that you know how to kill a person.” Ben doesn’t look very happy. He’s responsible for way more deaths than Five. “Let’s just wait and see, yeah? We can’t jump to any conclusions.”

Jumping is what Five is best at. Unfortunately.

A letter from the University of Chicago comes through four days later. He leaves it under his pillow for a while, too anxious to open it, but at night he can’t sleep and he knows why.

He takes his sweet time with it. He can feel the rejection through the paper, they aren’t going to want him, not the kid who’s known how to kill a man since the age of six. They have every right not to.

He unfolds the paper slowly. His hands definitely don’t shake.

It’s an acceptance.

\--

**SENT TO Vanya: Guess who’s going to Chicago Uni.**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: i guess diego.**

**SENT TO Vanya: Ha ha HA.**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: congrats! i knew you could do it.**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: but what happened to MIT?**

**SENT TO Vanya: I changed my mind. I’d rather Chicago.**

**RECEIEVED FROM Vanya: we’ll be so far away from each when you go :(**

**SENT TO Vanya: I’ll come and visit.**

**SENT TO Vanya: Dad’s being so moody, I think he’s regretting saying I could go.**

**SENT TO Vanya: But it’s too late now for him to change his mind.**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: i don’t think he regrets letting me go. he was probably glad to see the back of me.**

**SENT TO Vanya: Well soon he’ll have seen the back of me, too.**

\--

“Don’t go private,” Allison says, squeezing his shoulder and peering at the screen. “Go into student halls, that’s how you meet people.”

“I don’t want to meet people,” he mutters, but when she takes over and starts looking at students halls he doesn’t stop her.

“What about this?” She taps the screen with a long painted nail. “This one looks nice.”

He squints at the site. “The reviews say it’s grotty. I don’t want to live somewhere grotty.” He still has nightmares about when Dad made him clean the house for the Easter Incident. He had to plunge his siblings’ toilets. It was not good.

“You can bond with people about how shit it is!”

“No way. Look at this.” He pulls up the private accommodation page he’s got bookmarked. “It’s more expensive, but it’s clean and I’d live alone. That’s what I want.”

“Okay, how about this: you try student halls for first year, and if by the end you hate it then you can get your lonely one-room flat the next year.”

He rolls his eyes. “It won’t be lonely, I like being alone.”

“You’ve never been alone in your life,” Allison shoots back. “Did you forget that you’ve got six siblings, genius?”

He stares at the page. He’s always pictured himself living alone once leaving the Academy. He definitely doesn’t want to live in a big flat, he knows that, but maybe having a couple flatmates wouldn’t be so bad. Depends on the flatmates, really.

“Okay, compromise,” Allison suggests. “Find private accommodation with one or two roommates. Then you’ll always have someone there, but you won’t get too overwhelmed. Plus, default person to go on nights out with.”

“I don’t want to go on nights out.”

“Why are you even going to uni?”

“You know exactly why.”

Allison sighs, running a hand over her hair.

“Yeah, I do.” She gestures to the screen. “That’s my pitch. Up to you if you like it or not.”

Allison’s one of the most sensible of his siblings. ‘Let’s go to a karaoke competition’ aside, she usually gives good advice.

“Okay,” he breathes out, clicking back to the listings and switching the filters to be two or three-bedroomed. “I’ll do that.”

\--

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: i have a public recital this saturday. do you want to come?**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: it’s fine if not, i know it’s a long way.**

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: or if you’re busy.**

**SENT TO Vanya: I’ll be there.**

\--

He doesn’t wake up with a bad feeling that day. He should’ve done.

It was just supposed to be a routine mission. Some guys holding up a bank. It’s happened so many times before and it’s always been fine.

Until today.

Something must’ve gone wrong. There’s a bunch of guys with guns, and they were supposed to be knocked out, and they’re calling Ben a monster and raising to shoot and –

And Five is there, teleporting over to grab Ben and teleporting away right as he hears the guns fire.

\--

He’s been shot.

He knows it as soon as he re-materialises. His left shoulder is on fire, nothing’s ever hurt so much in his life, and he goes to grip it with a contorted face. That’s. That’s a lot of blood.

It’s not all his blood.

Because Ben has been shot too.

But while Five is barely standing, clutching a shoulder covered in hot sticky blood, Ben is lying on the floor with an agonised face. Through the haze of his own pain-filled vision, Five makes out a good few bullet-wound entries. Two in one leg, one in the other. There’s blood pooling underneath him, from higher than his legs. There must be one in his back.

Five drops to his knees. Pulling his hand away from his shoulder makes his whole body scream, and he’s losing so much blood but Ben is losing more.

“Ben,” he says, gasps, putting one shaking hand over his stomach and pressing down as hard as he can. This is all his fault, and now he can’t even help properly because trying to more his other arm is almost impossible, and Ben’s going to die all because Five didn’t move fast enough – “Just hold on. An ambulance will get here.”

But will it? He doesn’t even know where they are. Somewhere else in the building, he assumes, maybe a corridor over from the main room. The others must’ve seen them.

He yells for help. His vision is blurring out. You’re not supposed to fall asleep when you’re losing blood. A door down the corridor bangs open.

Luther’s moving him away from Ben and Klaus is frantically in his face and Allison’s crying and –

\--

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: remember my recital is tonight.**

\--

**RECEIVED FROM Vanya: five?**

\--

He isn’t asleep. He knows that. But he’s not with it, either. There’s a lot of flashing lights and a lot of yelling and – they’re taking Ben away but he needs to get to him, he needs to save him, what do you mean calm down they’re taking him away –

Someone sticks a needle in his arm. Then he is asleep.

When he wakes up the bullet is out and he can’t move his shoulder. There’s so many bandages. There’s a doctor there, Dr Hussain, and she says he’ll be fine. His arm will recover, with some physical therapy.

“I don’t care about that,” he says. “Tell me what happened to Ben.”

She nods like she’s been expecting it. “Your brother is still in surgery.”

“But he’s alive?”

“He’s,” she says cautiously, “in critical condition.”

Five gets up.

“You need rest,” Dr Hussain says. “You need to stay in bed.”

“Right,” Five says. “Fuck that.”

He blinks away.

As soon as he arrives in the corridor he knows he’s made a mistake. His shoulder erupts in pain, accompanied by the worst headache he’s had in years. But it’s nothing compared to what Ben must be going through, if he’s even still alive.

He finds the waiting room by sheer luck. Allison lurches up when she sees him, pulling him into a hug. He buries his face in her shoulder.

“You’re okay,” she breathes. “You’re okay you’re okay you’re okay.”

The rest of the team is there, too. They all look like shit. A couple of other people are staring, they are kind of famous, but some people are lost in their own worlds, their own tragedies.

“Allison,” Five says, pulling back. “What happened to Ben?”

Her face crumples.

“He’s alive,” Diego says. “Or he _was_ alive when we got here, I don’t know. He’s – there was a lot of blood. They had to make sure he was unconscious so the Horror wouldn’t come out.”

Klaus isn’t saying anything. Just staring with red eyes. For once it’s not because he’s high. Five wishes that it was.

“You were out of it,” Luther says quietly. He’s standing all hunched. He’s not a small guy, but right now he looks it. “Kept saying that you needed to get to Ben. They had to knock you out.”

“Diego fainted when he saw the needle,” Allison informs, and Five manages to crack a smile.

They wait. There’s nothing else to do. His shoulder hurts so much. Probably should’ve grabbed some pain relief before he left the hospital room. Dr Hussain’s probably looking for him. He should probably go back.

He doesn’t. He sits and he waits.

When the clock hits seven he realises, belatedly, that he’s going to miss Vanya’s recital. And that she has no idea that this is going on.

He doesn’t have his phone. He never takes it on missions. And Dad isn’t fucking here, the complete bastard. Five’s never hated Reginald as much as he does right now.

He stands. Everyone looks.

“I’m going to call Vanya,” he says. Klaus blinks.

“Oh shit,” he says, “I didn’t even think of that.”

Five glares at him, long and hard, before turning and going to find a phone.

He gets some very concerned looks from some people in the corridor. Fuck them. What do they even know, this is nothing, he’s doing so much better than Ben.

There’s a phone at the end of the corridor. He learned Vanya’s number off by heart, just in case Dad (Reginald, call him Reginald, he’s not your fucking dad because your dad would _be here_ ) Reginald ever took his phone off him.

This is going to be the worst conversation of his life. He has to do it.

Five dials Vanya’s number.

\--

Vanya’s a mess when she gets there. She sits next to Five and squeezes his hand numb with a blotchy face and a shaking voice.

It feels like forever before the doctors say that Ben’s left surgery. He’s alive.

The bullets in his legs were bad, but it’s the one in his back that caused the most damage. Hit his spine. Severed it.

When Ben wakes up, he’ll be paralysed from the waist-down.

\--

They want to keep Five in the hospital overnight, just in case. He agrees because it means he can stay with Ben. He’s not supposed to sit right next to Ben, but the doctors can’t stop a teleporter short of knocking him out and none of them seem to have the heart.

Apparently at home there’s a huge blow-up. Klaus and Diego scream at Da – at _Reginald_ for hours. When Five finally gets home he thinks he’s going to do the same, but when he sees Reginald he just stares mutely, too angry to even speak.

Ben wakes up.

Five doesn’t have the heart to visit him at first. This is his fault. He should’ve moved faster. He should’ve put his body in front, not behind. He should be the one in this situation.

In the end he goes because Allison tells him to. Well. Rumours him too. In a weird way he doesn’t mind. He needed to go and he wasn’t going to be brave enough to go on his own, so.

“Hey,” he says. Ben looks up and smiles.

“Hey. I was wondering when you’d stop avoiding me.”

He flinches. “Sorry.” It feels inadequate. It is inadequate. “I don’t – I didn’t know what to say.”

“’Hey’ is fine.” Ben rolls his eyes. He’s sitting in a wheelchair. He’ll be cleared to come home soon. Reginald hasn’t visited him once. Five can’t even be angry about that, because he hasn’t, either. “Five, stop hovering by the door and come sit on the bed.”

He teleports onto the bed. It feels more polite than walking.

“How are you?” he asks, rolling the sheets under his fingers. Ben snorts.

“Paralysed.”

“Other than that.”

“Uh, bored? Luther brought me some books but I already finished them. Holy shit, there is _nothing to do here_ , I’m going stir-fry.”

Ben likes stir-fry. The thought almost makes him smile. Almost.

“How’s your arm?” Ben asks. Five breathes out slowly.

“It’s fine.”

“How is it really?”

He shrugs. “Stings a bit. I’ve got to keep re-doing the bandages and cleaning it out, it’s really annoying.” Inconvenient is the word that comes to mind, but imagine if he said that? You’re paralysed, but the damage to my shoulder was really inconvenient. Even he’s not that bad. “Nowhere near as bad as your thing.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He’s not used to feeling so wrong-footed for so long. Five isn’t – _quiet_ , if he has an opinion it usually comes out, but there’s nothing he can say and nothing he should say and what if he made a mistake coming here, if he were Ben he wouldn’t want to see him, not the guy who fucked up saving him and now he can’t walk -

“Thank you, Five,” Ben says. Five startles, and Ben gives him a tired smile. “It’s because of you that I’m still here.”

What.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“To act like you’re grateful.”

Ben frowns. “I am grateful. I’d be dead if not for you.”

“I know. That’s not what I mean.” Let’s see, how to phrase this… “I mean you can be mad about what _did_ happen. You’re stuck in a wheelchair, it’s shit. You don’t have to act like it’s not.” He never knows what to say, and this might be entirely the wrong thing, but if this had happened to him he’d be fucking raging. “I’m not going to act like it’s not.”

“Oh,” Ben says. He looks at his hands and Five’s, how Five’s are tangled in the bedsheets.

Yeah. Oh.

“You’re right,” Ben says. “It is really shit.” Five looks up. Makes two seconds of eye contact before he has to look away. “I already hate this chair and I hate that I’m going to need it forever. But,” he carries on softly. “I don’t hate you.”

Five sniffs. He can’t help it. Ben holds out his arms.

“Come here, Five.”

It’s the awkwardest goddamned hug, but it’s happening. They’re both here and they’re both safe. They’re not missing and they’re not dead. They’re here. They’re here.

\--

“Maybe you could make him prosthetics,” Diego suggests the day after Vanya goes back to music school, apologetic and red-eyed.

Five squints. “Huh?”

“So Ben can walk again,” Diego explains. “You could make him new legs.”

“You’re an idiot. He can’t walk because of his spine, not his legs. Prosthetics wouldn’t help.”

“Well, maybe you could find a way to fix his spine?”

“Why would I be able to do that?”

“Come on, you’re always boasting about how clever you are. Why don’t you actually prove it?”

Jesus Christ.

“I’m good at _physics_ , Diego. Ask me how to calculate how far away a star is, sure. Not that you’d even understand that, considering the only thing you could be deemed ‘smart’ in is fighting. There’s nothing I can do. Nothing anyone can do. Especially not you.”

“Fucking hell,” Diego bites. “You can’t even get your head out of your ass for a minute, can you? Ben can’t walk! I get it if you can’t help him, but you don’t have to be such an asshole about it.”

“Why? _You’re_ an asshole about everything.”

Diego shakes his head. “Not this. Even I’m better than that.”

Five blinks away. He doesn’t have to put up with this.

Diego doesn’t understand. Five is, he’s eighteen, he can’t just _make prosthetics_ , and it’s not like new legs would help someone with a severed spine.

He studies for exams numbly. He knows all this shit anyway, he was reading it years ago, the exams should just be him going in and telling them everything he knows and getting the best grades.

He does get the best grades. Like there was ever even a doubt.

The months where he’s waiting for his results are borderline torture. He already knows how he’s done, there was only a few questions he wasn’t sure of and even then he gave some pretty good guesses.

His shoulder aches.

Physical therapy is a bitch. He’s tempted to stop going, but he has the luxury of recovery and Ben doesn’t so he goes. Rolls his shoulder. Stretches his arm. Later, at night, he stands in front of the mirror and runs his fingers over the scar.

Ben still wants to go to university. He’ll have to put it off a year, but he starts studying as soon as he gets home. Reginald doesn’t seem to care now that Ben can’t go on missions. Reginald is the worst person Five knows. But he’s still too angry to speak to him. There are some things that can’t be put into words. Maybe he should just scream. Might get his message across.

He gets his driving licence. It only takes a few lessons and one test of each component. He’s a fast learner. And a desperate one.

He’s got his things packed a full week before he has to go. He’s antsy with the urge to leave, to get out and never come back. He can’t stand to be here anymore and he’s pretty sure he’s not the only one. Diego said something about the police academy, and Allison mentioned ‘auditioning for a role’ (read: Rumouring someone into giving a role) and Klaus – Klaus is staying for Ben, but even he was talking about getting their own place until Ben goes away.

Only Luther wants to stay. He’s predictable like that. Poor sod’s never going to leave, and Five’s too tired to try and convince him.

\--

“So you’re going,” Klaus says. “Fucking finally.”

Five looks up from where he’s sealing the last box shut, his favourite notebook finally crammed in the top. He’s not in the mood for this.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Klaus shrugs, taking a jaunty step forward.

“Nothing much, just that you were always pretty desperate to go. You’re very arrivederci.”

Five doesn’t know shit about languages, but: “I don’t think that means what you think it does.”

Klaus waves a hand. “You get the picture.” Five gets a good look at him. Sighs.

“What are you on?”

“Painkillers. They’re great.”

“Would those happen to be my painkillers?”

“Uh,” Klaus says. Five snorts.

“I knew when you took them, by the way. You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

“Brother dear, I am many things but subtle isn’t one of them.” Klaus looks around at all the boxes. He must notice, surely, how the room is completely packed up. He must notice that Five has absolutely no intention of coming back. “Think I’ll see you again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, figures.” Klaus whistles, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I’m sure I’ll run into you at some point. Who knows, maybe we’ll go on another mission someday.”

“I doubt it.”

“Of course you do, you’re a pessimist.” Klaus squints. Nods towards the window. “That your car outside?”

“It’s a rental. I’m only using it to get my stuff there.”

“Oh, neat? I could come with, shoot the shit. You can pick the music.”

“There’s no room in the car.”

“Just say pass, dude, it’s fine.”

“Okay, pass.”

“There we go.” Klaus sighs. “I’m gonna miss you grumping up the place. Watch out Chicago, huh?”

Five stands. He’s done. All packed. All he has to do is transfer the boxes and he’ll be ready to leave. Well. He’s been ready to leave for a long, long time, but now he finally, actually can.

He picks up the first box. His shoulder feels a little strained, but he can handle it.

“Hey,” Klaus says gently. Five stops. “Thank you. For saving Ben. I mean, if you hadn’t been there -”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And thanks for coming back. When we were kids.” Klaus is chewing the inside of his cheek. It’s a habit Five shares. “I was really worried I was gonna see your ghost for a bit there, bud.”

The time when he ran away. He’d almost forgotten.

“Goodbye, Klaus,” Five says, jumping away and putting the first box in the car. When he appears back in his room Klaus is gone.

He doesn’t say bye to Dad, because fuck Dad. Reginald. The Dude Who Runs This House. Mom gets a goodbye, and Pogo doesn’t because Pogo always supports Dad, and he’s already said goodbye to Allison and Diego and Ben so that leaves -

“You’re going?” Luther asks, moving to stand beside Five at the front of the Academy. The car sits before them, full of Five’s shit. He is very obviously not planning to come back.

“Yeah. Duh.”

“You’re going _now?_ ”

“What does it look like?” Luther looks very upset. Five feels like rolling his eyes, except there’s a turning in his gut. Guilt. Great. Lovely company for an hours-long car ride. “Don’t worry, I’ll drive safe. There’s a couple of service stations along the way, I’ll take a break at them.”

“Right,” Luther says. “Yeah. Do that.”

Five lifts a hand, twirling the car key.

“Later.”

“Wait.”

Five steps towards the car, getting ready to teleport. His back is to Luther. He might never see Luther again.

“Please don’t go,” Luther says. Five stops. “Please, I – I don’t know what to do. Ben’s in a wheelchair and it’s all my fault, I was supposed to be the leader and I didn’t check that I’d knocked those guys out and I hadn’t, and I need your help. You always know what to do.”

 _No, I don’t_.

“Please don’t go,” Luther repeats. “Please stay.”

“There’s nothing left for me here.”

“There’s me. There’s us.” His hand twitches. “The Umbrella Academy. Saving the world together.”

Five snorts. “I bet you didn’t beg Vanya to stay. Sure she’d love to know about this.”

“This isn’t about Vanya. This is about me and you.” Five looks at Luther, _really_ looks at Luther. Sees all the insecurities and the fears and the fucking loneliness. “I know we’ve had our ups and downs, but – we work well together. We have a bond, I know you feel it too.”

Five looks at the wall of the house. He hates this place so much, and he’s hated almost everyone in it at some point or other.

“Would it surprise you,” Five says, “if I said I think we were twins.”

Luther only looks shocked for a moment.

“…No,” he admits. “That wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

Five grins tiredly. Runs a hand over his face.

“I’m getting out of here, Luther. You should too, before you get stuck.”

“Please don’t go,” Luther says lastly, brokenly. It’s no longer a plea. He knows that he’s lost.

“I’ll see you around,” Five says. “Or not.”

When he gets in the car it starts on the first turn of the ignition. He pulls out onto the road and he doesn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: some violence, permanent/life-changing injury to a minor character, + canon warnings of child soldiers  
> some thoughts abt this chap:  
> 1) the argument between five and luther was supposed to be half the size but i just kept thinking of more awful things they could say to each other. oops!...seriously though, that argument was so fun to write  
> 2) i wanted to get across with vanya that without five, she didn’t know the very worst of the training they went through and also my hc that when ben died she found out from the news because no one called to tell her bc they were all so upset and it didn’t occur to them :(  
> 3) i knew going in that five was going to save ben, but it felt out of place to have no consequences whatsoever, so i ended up going with this...poor ben :(  
> thx for reading, any comments would really make my day!! <3


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